Eyes of Change
by Yona0
Summary: A chance meeting between a little girl who is resigned to accepting the fact that she wasn't allowed to be a child and a man who is resigned to being forever bound to his creator. What will happen when these two meet each other?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and thank you you for reading! This is my first(-ish) Twilight fic and likely the only one to ever find its way on . There is little cause for the rating mature other than slight gore(?) later on so no excessive violence or similar. Also, sporadic updates, since I'm busy with school, and a bit of inconsistency...Sorry about that.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **{EoC}**

"Do you want to go shopping?"

"No, mom." _I didn't put money aside for that here._

"How about the zoo?"

"Not today." _Me? And animals? In one place? No, thank you._

"A Japanese garden?"

"No." _That was in Portland._

"Then what do you want to do?"

Isabella Swan peered up from her book to look at her mother, Renee Higgins, slightly miffed. "Nothing."

They had just gotten off a five hour flight from Phoenix, Arizona to Portland, Oregon, a trip which should have been little more than two and half hours but was delayed, and then traveled by car for another two hours, made three by her mother's fascination with the surroundings, to get to their destination: Astoria. In this deceptively short amount of time, Isabella's dear, but frightfully flighty mother had been nothing short of a pain in the ten-year-old's behind. No, even before then, the strain had already been building up.

Summer vacation had begun a few days ago and Renee had wanted to "go out and experience something new". The sentiment wasn't particularly mutual but Isabella hadn't wanted to rain on her mother's parade since she'd recently just gotten over a break up. So she left her mother to planning the trip. And what a mistake that was. Had she forgotten how whimsical and irresponsible she could be? Clearly, since she practically just stood by and watched as her mother purchased plane tickets, first-class, to France, then reserved a room at a five-star hotel room in Paris with the best view of the Eiffel Tower.

Considering she'd taken over nearly all monetary affairs about six months ago, Isabella really should've seen it coming. She hadn't. But after a chance glance at her mother's unnaturally giddy grin as she began to finalize their reservation, she'd caught her and cancelled everything. Ignoring her mother's indignant demand of who was the adult, to which she could only scoff at internally, because they both knew who was more of an adult of the pair, she looked up less extravagant and costly flights and chose one that was not only within her mother's wage gained from her job as a elementary school teacher, but also had the least likely chance of leading to trouble from her airheaded parent's whims.

Astoria, Oregon had seemed like such a perfect choice. A nice, cozy city on the coast with great seafood, a favorite of her mother's, along with a nice little beach, though they probably wouldn't swim since the weather was looking a bit cloudy, and plenty of places to keep her mother's short-attention span occupied for the few days they'd be there. It was quite close to Washington, which may have worried her mother a bit, but Isabella had been able to persuade her to stay at least a week before they went elsewhere. A miracle, she knew, since the weather in Astoria was remarkably unexciting and similar to Forks, from what she could remember from when she was younger, and her mother, in no few words, had confessed her lack of desire to return there.

Fortunately, Forks was in the northernmost part of Washington, so she was able to make her mother see reason, if begrudged but reason enough.

Isabella had thought that was the end, for a while at least, of her mother's flighty behaviour when they borded the plane but then there was a delay. A bloody _three hour_ _delay_. Normally, the mature girl would've accepted the delay with no grumbles or complaints, but that was before her mother began to talk. And talk and talk and talk. The woman wouldn't leave her to her book in peace for more than five seconds! And when she hadn't been talking her ear off, slowly eating her patience away, the acclaimed adult began to bother the flight attendants. They were in Business class, which had been less expensive than she'd have thought, in a morning flight before noon, and her mother had the gall to order a tall glass of white wine and a plate of an Italian dish Isabella wouldn't dare to repeat the name of. After putting a stop to that she was once again subjected to the torture known as a sulky Renee.

And adults thought children were bratty.

Once those five hours of slow death were over, two other problems arose. First, they were in Portland, meaning they were two whole hours from their planned stop with no transportation aside from a taxi, so they had to spend more cash from the careful budget she'd planned. Not too much of an issue if she limited an activity or two but that would lead to more sulking, unfortunately. She would just have to deal. Second, she'd completely forgotten to reserve a room at a hotel. How could she have forgotten the place they'd be sleeping for the next week? With a little aid from the taxi driver and her mother's skills on the internet, as Isabella was comparably illiterate in that regard, they got a nice room with twin beds and full service for a reasonable price. Luckily, she'd set the money for their room separate from activities before they left Phoenix.

Now, on the insistence of Renee, they sat just outside their hotel, Renee coming up with ideas of how to spend the rest of the day, and Isabella moodily flicking her chocolate orbs across her the pages novel.

"But Bellaaa..." Renee almost whined, causing to her daughter's lips to twitch downward. "Let's have fun, I want to have fun! Come on, can't we go to the aquarium? Didn't you say there was one?"

Childish as it was, Isabella didn't respond this time, feigning being enraptured by her book. Her mother knew very well she didn't like the shortened version of her name in any way and she wouldn't respond to it, no matter how often she tried.

Her mother huffed at the silence and crossed her arms. "Fine, be that way. I'm going to the ba...coffee shop." At the stern look from her daughter, she quickly changed her destination. She smiled innocently and began to head back into the hotel. "Bye, darling."

Isabella set her book on her lap, frowning before she called after her. "You have your cell, right? Call me if you need me. And don't stay out too late! Or talk to suspicious strangers."

Renee gave her an amused and bubbly smile. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" She shook her head at the expression that clearly said ' _No. Where'd you get that idea?_ ' in response. "Same to you, dear."

Isabella watched her mother closely through the glass of the hotel, not caring how strange it might look, until she saw her enter the Starbucks inside the hotel, which was thankfully close enough to be seen. She looked back down at her book for a few short minutes before sighing and closing it. She hadn't been able to read it since before the flight, and now that she had found peace, she couldn't even concentrate enough to read the words on the page. This is why she preferred peace and quiet, she couldn't finish her books otherwise.

Now she was so disturbed even peace wouldn't let her read. She sighed again and leaned back against the bench, looking up into the grey, overcast sky. Contrary to her mother's views of cloudiness being dreary and mood killing, Isabella didn't bare any ill feelings for it. To be honest, she kind of liked it. Arizona was always so warm and sunny, it had become tedious and overbearing. She was ready for something different, and that decision had nothing to do with the fact that she couldn't gain a tan no matter how long she bathed in the sun.

Astoria was overcast for the majority of the year, temperatures being between 40 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit even during the summer. That was part of why she wanted to come here. It almost reminded her of those times with her father in Forks, going fishing early in the morning, having to run with little or no game caught once it began to rain. Despite her mother's declarations of the little town being the definition of monotony and stagnancy, it was the very representation of the peace she desired for herself. Perhaps she would go back someday...

She groaned just thinking of the reaction her mother would have. It would be disastrous, and that wasn't even factoring in the matter of seeing her father again after so many years.

Isabella closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Not the time to be imagining this crap. It was summer vacation. A time for relaxation and freedom from worries, ideally, and despite being a rigid realist, a development from growing under Renee's airy, irresponsible wings, she would bask in it. Well, bask in it for as long as she believed safe, which should only be about, say, two or three hours at most, if she knew her mother well enough. She pushed herself to her feet, momentarily relishing in the stretching of her leg and arm muscles, before sending a quick glance around at her surroundings.

The city was quiet, aside from the far out sounds of people's laughter farther out at sea and on the beach. Isabella rather liked it. The salty scent of the sea carried by a cool breeze that swept past her form smoothly. Today she had worn a pair of blue jean capri's, a light blue top, and comfortable white converse. She was glad she'd chosen clothes that allowed her breathe and feel the air around her, soaking in coolness instead of heat as she did back home.

She would have to take advantage of the short time she had there. Before they left on their next "great big adventure" that was, unfortunately, a choice left up to her mother since she got to choose the first. And who knew where on earth she'd lead them, she certainly couldn't, unable to make sense of the chaotic process in the mind of her mother. With another groan, she decided to just stop thinking about Renee and began to walk in some random direction before her mind thought better of it...

And promptly tripped over air.

"Dang it!" She grunted when her knee came into contact with hard concrete and sharp pain shot up her thigh. She knelt for a moment, gritting her teeth at the familiar pain, before pushing herself back up to her feet. She ignored the pain with practiced ease as she checked for blood. There was none, thankfully, an she checked her book, which had not gotten out of her fall quite so unscathed. The spine of the book had seen better days, she knew that, and from its appearance, it had been dragged against the ground so hard it was nigh unreadable. _Dang it._ And she'd just gotten it the day before at a bookstore after packing.

 _Nothing to do about it now._ She sighed again and began to walk, just enjoying the cool breeze and near silence, allowing it to soothe her being and calm her mind to less distressing thoughts.

After a few minutes of aimless walking, though she made sure to take note of land markers on her path, she came upon a park she knew if given the chance, she would visit every day of their stay in Astoria. It was a sight to behold, worthy of its claim to be the most beautiful park in Astoria, or so she had read on the city's website. Even if it weren't true, she'd be skeptic, because she could not imagine a place better than this.

The park was rather simple, neither extravagant in layout nor grandeur on its theme. Like any other park, there was a seemingly endless plain of green with bursts of color in the form of beautiful flowers, ones she couldn't name but it didn't detract anything from the sight, only adding a mysterious edge to it. She walked into the park, sticking to the path made not of concrete but what seemed to be naturally indigenous rocks and stones, until she noticed tress begin to accompany the flowers.

Vaguely, she was aware that there were also a few people to be seen now, but she payed the families or couples no mind as she followed the thickening of trees, and eventually arrived at what could be considered an alcove with a white chrome fountain in the center. The shape of it wasn't anything special, just stone sculpted into a shape remiscent of the champagne glasses stacked at a wedding, the water spouting from the top in a round spray, cascading down from bowl to bowl until it was in the bottom most part, where, unsurprisingly, a bountiful amount of coins sat undisturbed.

 _A place for wishes._ Isabella hummed quietly, mindful enough not to disturb the few families or individuals spread a distance away, far enough their conversations didn't bother too much. Their voices were only a distant murmur in comparison to the soothing, continuous flow of water from the fountain. She glanced around herself for a moment, a bit self-conscious before sitting on the outer edge of the fountain, taking immediate pleasure in the lightest of sprays from the water.

She leaned back on her hands, shivering lightly at the coldness of the stone, looked up at the sky. It was still a light grey, swirling mass that left her thoughts as little more than a nebulous cloud of blankness. She'd never been so relaxed and thoughtless before. For all her conscious life, it had been necessary for her, when she became aware of their circumstances, to be able to make decisions about the future her mother had yet to consider. She couldn't just let everything fall into place before her as if it was meant to happen and accept it as it comes. She had to plan everything, prepare for the worst that could happen, as she knew her mother prepared for little if not nothing, had to be aware of the severity of not only her actions but her mother's as well. Even if her mother told her to be a child, she doubted she'd ever actually be able to do just that. If only because she didn't know what a child was supposed to do, what they were supposed to think.

Perhaps their minds were as content and empty as hers was at this moment. Or were they full of light and passing thoughts like her mother's? Nothing too solid or too serious so they can maintain their blissful ignorance and lightheartedness. If that were true, did she even want to be a child? Would it be so wrong if she were to grow up faster, sooner than most?

She sighed through her nose softly and closed her eyes. _If I do not grow up, then who will keep our household stable?_ Her brows furrowed before relaxing to their previous state. _No one would_. It was as simple as that. Renee certainly wouldn't have, and that was alright. She didn't mind having to grow up prematurely. She didn't mind holding responsibilities her mother could not, or perhaps would not. As long as she could have these content, peaceful moments, completely undisturbed. All-consuming, blessedly accepting silence.

" _Damn it!_ "

Isabella froze at the almost growl-like curse but didn't open her eyes, even as all conversation cut off conspicuously. It was ony after a few moments of silence that she did, and even then, it was a slow movement, a sign of her still relaxed state, though she could tell that soon the necessary adrenaline would be pumping through her veins if the situation demanded it.

As her eyes opened, the first thing she took notice of was the hurried gathering of families and their picnics, faces wary and almost fearful. They all began to filter away, quickly, and looking back as if some predator was watching them. It took a moment for Isabella to connect the sound she heard moments before to their rushed departures. Was there some kind of animal around or something? But she hadn't heard another growl, or even the sounds of an animal approaching?

As if on cue, light but quick footsteps, softened by grass, could be heard not too far away. Isabella didn't move though. Perhaps she was frozen or perhaps it was a conscious choice, she couldn't decide which as she turned in the direction of the footsteps. Directly behind her, she noticed, and depending on who or what was coming, they wouldn't be able to see her. It gave her little relief. If she had needed to get away, it was already too late. Were she to try and run at the first sign of a threat, she knew she would fall. It was an inevitable and likely unavoidable truth now.

She silently cursed her inability to follow other people's examples in exchange for appraising them. Truly, it was moments like these her individualism got in the way of proper reactions. _Follow the crowd, off the cliff...away from danger, into the abyss_. A crude paraphrasing of a saying she heard once but she really couldn't recall it verbatim.

Just then, a form broke through the trees at a brisk speed. Isabella could ony stare as she recognized the form as a man with one hand running roughly, haphazardly though long, thick strands of black hair, partially shading his face, but she could see his lips twisted into something of a snarl.

She remained motionless where she sat at the fountain as she watched the man sit on the opposite side of the fountain, though fortunately at an angle to where she could see his face. And what a sight that was. If she thought the park was the definition of aesthetic, simplistic beauty, the man was the incarnate of exotic exquisiteness.

Despite the twist of his features, she could see just how exquisite a being he was. He was a relatively tall man, with dark, dusky, smooth brown skin. His hair was unbound and flowed like a wave of inky blackness over his shoulder and down his back, blending in seamlessly with his dark button up top. His face was sharp and angled yet there was a softness there that made him less intimidating than he could have been, even if there was a decidedly frightening sneer besmirching his face.

At any other time, Isabella would have taken the time to study the beautiful creature before her, or maybe she would have taken the opportunity to leave as the others had, but she did neither of those things. Neither even occurred to her as she looked into the eyes of the man. She had never seen the particular shade the man's eyes were, but she had definitely seen the emotion in it, though not to such a heart wrenching extent.

Though the man's face was screwed up with the appearance of anger, of _fury_ , Isabella could see the deep, clawing pain raging in them. Raging the deepest, cruelest depths of the sea, like the hottest of infernos in Hell. Raging like a beast torn asunder by suffering and swallowed in its own misery.

Isabella could feel her own heart cringing at the sight. She had always been hyper-aware of people's moods around her, and she could never let it go when she knew they were in serious need of help. And this man was definitely in need of someone's, maybe not just anyone's, but someone's help. Seeing as everyone had already fleed due to the man's venting, she was the only one around to provide it.

This worried her slightly, after all, she did not know the man, and in his state of mind and turmoil, who knew what could happen? But wouldn't leaving him in such a state be dangerous as well? Even more so, for himself. He could be suicidal for all she knew. And she could do nothing, letting the man wallow in pain before eventually succumbing to it.

She wouldn't allow that. Of all the ways to die, she thought suicide to be the worst. And if not the worst, definitely the saddest and most pitiful. A terrible way to leave this world.

Her decision had been made. She would, if she could, ease the man's pain in any way possible. _I don't want to see him dead._

With that thought, she stood silently, placing her book aside and took a moment to steel herself. She would do this. Because she had to, because she needed to. Because she really didn't want to see this person's lifeless face as the last memory of him.

She took a few deep breaths before striding towards the man slowly. Her steps were a bit shaky at first but they quickly became firmer as she walked the small distance of ten feet to stand in front of the man. Pain gleamed in his strangely colored twin orbs and even though they were aimed nearly directly at her, he appeared to not have noticed her. Her worry increased, as did her anxiety, but she beat it down and opened her mouth.

She barely recognized the soft yet strongly compassionate, with a miniscule hint of curiosity, voice that left her lips.

"Why do you look so sad?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Thanks for reading, following, etc! I didn't expect an immediate response, so I decided I might as well give you this. There is a bit of questionability in one conversation, as I am still trying to get the hang of dialogue, so I'd appreciate it if there is critiques on that. Thanks again!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **P.S. I'm a bit of a slow writer... as in, the plot is slow...so, read at your leisure.**

 **{EoC}**

"I'll be taking _these_. Seeing as you'll not be in need of them any longer."

Honey teak orbs watched as their father, their creator, their sire, curled his darkly colored fingers into rigid claws and dug into white, pale skin slowly, painfully. A dark smirk revealing brilliant white teeth graced their creator's lips even as a horrified, caterwauling screech was dredged out of the nearly decapitated head connected only by the slightest of ribbons of flesh to the dismembered body below him. Venomous blood dyed his hard, marble fingers as they bypassed just as hard skin to grasp the round sphere and gouge it out of its socket. The sound of flesh squelching and snapping accompanied by an even higher pitched screech was enough to make the honey teak orbs close.

Nahuel Demilis clenched his hands into fists as he waited for the second squelching sound and piercing screech before he turned on his heel. He did not want to be there when his father disposed of his latest victim after he acquired what he desired. But he should've known his departure wouldn't escape his father's notice.

"Nahuel, where do you think you're going?"

Nahuel stopped amidst the single step he had taken and swallowed thickly before turning around and opening his eyes. He met ruby eyes fitted into the beautifully twisted face of his smirking father. It took a monumental amount of his control to not reveal the disgust coiling in his stomach at the sight of two bloody orbs in his father's hand. The trophies of his latest experiment subject. "The mansion, ground level. I thought my presence no longer needed since you already have everything...at hand."

Joham Demilis, self-proclaimed scientist, philosopher, and evolutionary researcher, chuckled with morbid humor and rolled the sticky orbs in his fingers idly, as if they were merely marbles. "Amusing, but incorrect. I am still in need of you, I'm afraid."

Nahuel's jaw clenched slightly and he fought to not let his heartbeat quicken. His father usually wanted nothing more than for him to view and record the data of his so-called "evolutionary breakthroughs", even after the century and a half he'd accompanied him. He knew Joham considered the actual experiment an individual activity only for his hands and never involved his son or even his daughters, likely due to his own twisted brand of self-absorption. Yet, as of late, he'd been having Nahuel join him, and even if it was only watching, his involvement had been gradually increasing, becoming more and more physical.

Nahuel worried for what the change alluded.

"What need have you of me?" He inquired smoothly, allowing none of his thoughts to reflect in his voice or face.

Joham flicked his eyes down at the pale, limbless form lying pitifully on his once white tiled floor, now colored a dark crimson. A sneer of disgust curled his lip. "Dispose of this filth in the incinerator," he ordered. "He's dirtied my floors enough as it is."

 _And whose fault is that?_ Nahuel held his tongue and moved to do as commanded. He bent to pick up the body that was little more than a torso with a nearly severed head, lip momentarily curling into a snarl as he saw why he had heard no more moans of pain after the second eye had been gouged out. His father had mercilessly ripped the vocal cords out of the vampire's throat, leaving it completely irreparable after the days he'd forced said vampire to go without sustenance. And now they were in a state where their body was so depleted, they couldn't even fall into bloodlust to seek prey. It was probably one of the only reasons why Joham didn't allow the detrimentally deprived creature to massacre and feast on the humans in the city they resided in.

Nahuel cleared his face of expression as he picked up the mutilated form. He may not like it, but he would put the man, what used to be a man, to his eternal rest. The ancient one in his hands wouldn't be the first, not by a longshot.

Just as he moved to leave the room, an underground laboratory his father didn't even have to have installed, he was stopped by a cold hand on his shoulder. He fought the shiver of revulsion at the thought of what had just been done, what had been done over the centuries, with that very hand. His expression was set in stone as he looked at his father. "Yes, father?"

Glinting ruby glittered with unhidden pleasure. The cause, Nahuel could only guess. "While you're up there, tell Ellen to come clean this up." He received a jerky nod in response and his smirk widened. "Also, would you do me the favor of putting these in the preservative fluid I have in my office?"

Internally, Nahuel balked at the command disguised as a request and venomous bile echoed faintly in the back of his throat. He was going to have to _touch_ the male vampire's eyes that his father had just _gouged out with his bare fingers_. Why couldn't he have chosen Serena to aid him in his experiment? His half-sister many decades older would've shown far more enthusiasm to assist him.

He swallowed once again before he raised a hand with unnecessary slowness. "As you wish, father." He was rewarded with a beautifully malignant smile that would have had his elder and younger sisters beaming with pride and accomplishment. Their sire did not often smile when not amidst a sadistic act or twisted experiment.

As soon as he felt the wet, fleshy orbs land in his palm, Nahuel vanished to his destination. He willfully ignored the sound of his father's amused chuckles that followed him. He flung the body into the burning flames of the incinerator conveniently located in the basement of the mansion, silently apologizing for the callousness of his behaviour, but he wanted to do away with the eyes in his hand as quickly as possible.

He ran at his quickest speed to his father's office, meeting Ellen, their "maid", halfway there and passed on his father's message. When he reached his destination, he went to the walls of bookshelves and turned a specific section that opened to a cliché secret room behind it. The lights flicked on automatically and Nahuel, despite coming there numerous times before during their three year stay in this little city in Oregon, he still couldn't suppress the snarl of outrage and distaste at what his father practically put on display.

The walls of the hidden room were lined with shelves dedicated to his abominable creator's "trophies". Limbs, innards, blood, venom, all parts of the body, even the brain, collected from vampires, humans and animals alike were displayed with an almost pride-like manner. No, not almost, with full-blown hubris and arrogance.

No longer caring to look at his father's "accomplishments", he went towards a cabinet where special fluids not produced by natural means, such as the self-made preservation liquid that could withstand vampire venom's eroding properties, a truly genius creation, and scanned his eyes over the labels for his, for lack of better term, desired substance. He found it in seconds, but upon habit, his honey teak orbs scanned over all containers.

The double take he did was so violent his neck cracked painfully. The pain barely register as he read the label with a name he hadn't seen, though had constantly thought about, in almost fifteen decades.

 _Female vampiric fluid,_ it read, and though it didn't name what type of fluid Nahuel didn't care. All he cared for was of a single name amongst the many that were elegantly scrawled on the label. _Arsedi, Narcis, Melone, Lesbeth, Rena, Lissa...Huilen._

A growl of heartache and gut-wrenching pain ripped through his chest and out of his throat. Huilen. The woman who took care of him when he was young. Who took care of the monster that forced her to change into a bloodthirsty creature of legend. Who took care of the monster who robbed the life of her beloved sister.

The woman who's short immortal life came to an end at the hands of the creator of the very monster she reluctantly took in as her own.

 _Huilen_.

A ragged breath forcefully pushed itself out of Nahuel's lungs and he nearly fell to his knees as they buckled at the sudden onslaught of memories of then.

 _A man with dark, beautiful features appeared before his three-year-old self, though his body was already that of a preteen, and his aunt, Huilen. She had immediately recognized him for the "dark angel" his mother had spoke of to her about._

Joham, _he called himself._

 _His father._

 _He had come to take him away._

 _His aunt had refused to let him go, even though she balmed him for_ her _death._

 _His father wouldn't accept denial._

 _His aunt had chosen to fight, even though she was already and only three years old; too old to have newborn strength, too young to be a match for an ancient._

 _His father was centuries old and powerful._

 _It wasn't even a close match._

 _Nahuel could only watch as Huilen charged in biting and scratching like an feral animal and his father danced around her as she were nothing more than a child. And that was exactly what she was to him. A child. One getting in the way of his goals._

 _When he grew bored of the young vampire's pointless struggle, he easily seized her arms from behind and kicked her down to the ground, foot grinding her down into the forest floor. He gave her one last warning, perhaps due to the distress Nahuel displayed for his caretaker and only family, to which Huilen responded with a rabid growl._

 _With no further deliberation, his father tore her arms out of their sockets and tossed them away as if they were trash, unmindful of the scream of pain she released. If anything, he relished in it as he took the next few moments to take her body apart, limb by limb, and throw them into a pile._

 _Nahuel had long closed his eyes and and covered his ears of the sight and sounds of the pain his own father was causing his aunt. It was nothing but torture, torture he could do nothing to stop because the monster inflicting it was a full vampire while he was only half. And half of a whole was naturally less._

 _It was then he realized since the man was his father, and he was half of him, then that meant he was half monster. He was born a monster because he was sired by one._

 _And that was when he smelled the flames. He opened his eyes and uncovered his ears to watch the last moments of the only family he'd ever had._

 _Her flesh burned quickly and filled the air with its repugnant scent, but Nahuel stared wide-eyed as her face and body were engulfed in flames and the shrillest scream of sheer pain echoed through the air around them, even when she was already gone._

 _Nothing was left except a pile of ash when the pyre had finished burning._

 _Nahuel didn't notice the warm tears cascading down his cheeks until the monster who took his only family away used a thumb to brush them away. He recoiled violently in fear and disgust and anger but couldn't escape those strong, cold hands._

 _"Come with me, my son."_

 _Nahuel shook within his grasp._

 _"Together, we'll be gods that rule over the disgusting humans that overpopulate this world."_

 _Nahuel didn't understand. Gods? Rule over humans?_

 _"You and your sisters are the pioneers, and I am your creator."_

 _Nahuel froze in surprise. He had sisters? He had...family?_

 _"Come with me." The monster in the guise of a dark angle beseeched. "You'll never be alone again."_

 _Nahuel didn't know what to do. This man, his father, this monster had just killed his only family. Yet he asked him to join him, as if he had a choice in the matter. He knew he did not, but he didn't want to accept. But he didn't want to be alone either._

 _"Forever?" Nahuel asked softly. "You'll_ never _leave me alone? Ever?"_

 _An angelic smile overtook his creator's features. "Never."_

 _And he took the hand of a monster knowing he had just moved one step closer to being one himself._

That bastard had taken a part of her at that time and used it in some disgusting experiment! He tarnished her even after death! One day, Nahuel promised, he was going to _kill_ him, _end_ him, _erase every mark he ever left on the world._ There wouldn't even be a memory of his _name_ when he was done.

He quickly completed his task, as quickly as he could while restraining the desire to just ransack his father's entire office, it would only lead to punishment not only for him but his sisters as well. He may not like the eldest, but she, Maysun and Jennifer were his family who were merely products of their father's twisted, mad teachings and toying with his self-imposed role as "God of Creation".

His hands were almost trembling with suppressed rage as he placed the jar of dark crimson eyes submerged in light blue, semi-transparent liquid on an empty shelf directly being the only desk and chair in the room.

With his task complete, he vanished out of the office, closing its hidden door with unnecessary force, and reappeared in the sitting room where his second eldest sister, Maysun, sat chattering away with Jennifer, his little sister who had only just come into full maturity. He would've said hello, had he not felt his anger building up and he didn't trust himself not to release it on them.

So he ran out the door silently into the evergreen woods that surrounded the mansion. The sky was a blanket of light grey and the cool wind tinged by the strong scent of the sea, reaching even as deep into the forest as his father's mansion was.

The solidity of greyness in the sky, the salty scent of the sea on the wind, the coolness that pressed against his hot skin in his dead sprint, these sensations normally would have calmed him from his frustrations with his father's latest act, but it wasn't working this time. He was still too close. He could still smell that musky, woodland scent that he knew to be the signature of his sire. It utterly soaked the trees and land of the forest around him.

He had to get farther away. For the sake of his sanity and control.

And so he vanished, running at full speed, unseen as anything other than a blur had a human been looking. There were none, thankfully, or he'd have been forced to dispose of them, again. The reminder of his extermination of the unlucky humans who witnessed his little sister feeding at the behest of his father sent another surge of anger through him. Like the cruel creature he was, Joham thought nothing of the lives of humans other than that they were bags of blood for them to feed from, and that belief had passed on to his elder sisters, and to a lesser degree, his younger as well. It was no surprise, they hadn't had a person who wasn't monstrous after slaying their mothers in birth, like he had Huilen.

Nahuel planted his feet in the ground and forced the motion of his body to stop. He needed to stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about the woman who he ruined the life and death of. Stop thinking of the sisters whose purity had been tainted before they ever got to live out their innocence. Stop thinking about the monster who was the beginning of it all.

" _Damn it._ " He cursed through clenched teeth and drug both hands through his hair harshly as he began to walk at a more human pace. The signs of human life were beginning to filter in through his senses. The scent of their appetizing blood covered by the disgusting perfumes they so liked, the sounds of their slow movements and incessant chatter, the taste of the detrimental affects of their advancements to nature in the air.

But there were none in sight. That was good, they were fleeing from his presence. Despite being inherently weak creatures, they had good instincts for what could endanger their lives. Nahuel didn't trust himself in the state he was in to not be more than just a possible threat to them. Even as he absorbed the clean scent of nature and welcoming caress of the wind, he could still feel his agitation building.

He had to restrain it, he didn't wish to leave this city yet. Astoria was one of the calmest locations they'd ever resided for more than a year, let alone three. His family had been relatively tame in the little city. There had only been a handful of deaths spread over the three years, so they were under little threat of exposure any time soon. In fact, there was virtually no threat since the only ones who'd made their presence well-known to the city's occupants were his father and himself. His father as a miracle surgeon and he as his assistant.

A silent snarl curled his lip and reverberated in his chest. Yes, he was the courteous assistant to the enigmatic, miracle surgeon who aided anyone in need.

A bloody fallacy was what his father was.

As the man entered the center of what he recognized from the culminated scent of dozens of species of flowers as his favorite park in Astoria, he couldn't even enjoy the usually calming sight and sound of absolute tranquility. Knowing his presence had scared away all the game - _humans_ , he allowed his emotions to twist his face as he curled a hand through his thick strands and collapsed onto the edge of the chrome fountain with natural vampiric grace.

Was this what his life would always be like? Centered around his father's commands and whims? Revolving around the tenuous difference between having morals and becoming a monster who thought of humans as nothing more than food? How long would he have to live like this, he wondered. Fighting the memories of his past, the memories of the deaths he cause jut by being what he was. Succumbing to the weight of the truth that his sisters were becoming more and more of a monster like their creator. Slowly conforming to the image his father envisioned for him.

Was he to be trapped forever in his father's grasp until he, too, was a monster of hedonism and desecration?

"Why do you look so sad?"

Nahuel's hand went rigid in his hair and the other curled into a claw before he looked up and met warm chocolate orbs. For a few short seconds, the hybrid was overwhelmed by a sweet, relaxing scent the human in front of him exuded. _Lilies and...irises?_ His eyelids lowered for a split second before he snapped out of his daze and shot up from his seat on the fountain's edge, putting a yard between himself and the human, the child whose scent almost lulled him into a state of defenselessness.

 _Who is she?_ He regarded the child, a little girl appearing to be only ten or eleven, warily. She was a small and adorable little thing, delicate and fragile in every sense of the words, yet she stood within his presence as if he were just another human she'd happened by. Why did she not fear him? Being a hybrid did nearly nothing to detract from the danger that humans inherently felt within vampires' presence, the innate need to flee like the prey they were from a predator. Yet this little girl showed nothing more than slight anxiety which was greatly dominated by what he thought was curiosity and...concern?

Nahuel, for once in many decades of his life, was at a loss for what was occurring. What was wrong with this child? Had she no sense of self-preservation? Or perhaps a death wish? No, not the latter, that was jumping the gun a bit, but perhaps she did lack the former. It just wasn't natural for her to be so at ease while being so near his person.

 _Unnatural..._ His breath hissed through his teeth. It couldn't be that his father had already experimented on this child, could it? His father didn't like the "inferior species", thinking them not even worthy of his touch unless it involved his "research". Could that monster have actually experimented on this child, this little girl, in some way and found out how to completely eliminate that natural instinct to stay away from them?

It wasn't a moment later that he discarded the thought. There wasn't a hint of his father's repugnant mark on the girl, as regardless of what type of experiment his father conducted, Joham Demilis always left his mark on his subjects. Whether it was a specific scent, or a visual signature, it would be there, but Nahuel detected neither on this child.

He relaxed internally in relief, the child remained untouched, albeit maybe a bit in the head if she actually approached him where others fleed on sight. Outwardly, his expression was once again the stone he had long grew accustomed to using in his sire's continued presence. "What do you want?" He asked in a perfectly inflectionless voice.

When he saw the child flinch minutely, he slightly regretted the cold tone he used. He watched as the girl's warm eyes looked down almost timdly before she met his eyes again and he was surprised to see determination in them. She took a hesitant step toward him and spoke with a voice he was unaware could come from a child. "I want to help you."

Nahuel was distracted by the strange blend of innocence and maturity, so he took a second or two longer than necessary to respond to the child's declaration. He couldn't stop the crooked, twist of his lips that he knew was a poor mockery of a smile. "And how exactly do you figure you could do that? Assuming I need help in the first place."

The girl's large chocolate orbs widened and she opened her mouth to respond but she stopped when she felt a drop of liquid on her cheek. She looked up as more drops began to fall slowly at an irregular rhythm. Nahuel was surprised once again when her lids slid shut - _so comfortable in the presence of a stranger_ \- and she tilted her head back more, breathing out soft breath. "l love the sensation of rain. Do you?"

Nahuel almost didn't respond, so taken aback by the girls statement. Where had that come from? Maybe she really was a bit off...

"Well? Do you?" The girl repeated.

He frowned at her apparent relaxed form but responded. "I do..." Though he enjoyed the fresh scent of it even more, as well as the gentle pattering of drops on leaves and other surfaces. "Why do you wish to know?"

The child was silent for several moments. Then, when Nahuel thought she wouldn't answer, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "I didn't. I merely wanted to hear you speak." She smiled sweetly, eyes soft and warm.

At this, Nahuel couldn't stop the bewilderment that bloomed on his face, nor could he stop the intelligent response that left his mouth. "Huh?"

There was only the sound of rain for a moment until the soft sound of the girl's laughter filled the air. Nahuel found himself almost wishing to laugh with her but then he remembered he hadn't laughed freely once in over fifteen years and any laughter he may have released vanished into nothingness.

The girl continued to laugh for several more seconds until a sound of vibration interrupted it. Her laugh and smile immediately cut off, stunning Nahuel briefly as the purely childlike expression morphed into one that resembling an adult expectant of bad news. "Mom, has something happened?"

" _No, sweetie, why would you think that?_ " Nahuel heard a female voice, quite unlike the child's low, for a girl, alto.

The girl's lips twitched into what would've been an irritated frown had there not been fondness in her eyes. "I think the question is why _wouldn't_ I think that."

" _Don't get smart with me, young lady!_ " The voice said, resembling that of a child attempting, and failing, to sound stern.

The girl let out a short chuckle, amused. "I'd never dream of it. So why are you calling? Nothing really happened?"

" _No...well, maybe just a tiny situation..._ "

A small hand rose the knead the muscles in her temple as exasperation colored the girl's pale face. "What have you done this time, mom?"

" _Oh, nothing much_ ," the child's parent, who seemed more like the child than the girl before him did, said lightly. " _I only... spilledsomecoffeeontheownerofthecoffessshop'slap andthenpouredaglassoficewateroverit_."

Nahuel saw a muscle in the girl's cheek twitch, and though she didn't express it visually or audibly, he knew she was truly irritated this time. If he wasn't bemused before then, he certainly was now. _What a strange little girl..._

"Where are you now?" The child inquired.

" _Uh, the owner's office. He says he requires reparations for the damage to his clothing...and the damage to his table that I fell on_." The girl's mother attempted to laugh but her daughter was clearly unamused.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." The child said into the phone. "Don't...just don't fall again."

" _Hey! That's almost like telling you not to trip_!"

She ignored the insult and quickly ended the call. "I'm on my way. Bye, mom." She hung up.

Nahuel watched her stare at her phone, bemused, until she let out an exasperated sigh and turned to walk away. She paused after a few steps and glanced back at him, to his surprise.

"I have to go, do you think we could meet again?" She questioned.

Nahuel arched a brow, expression aloof while he was utterly bewildered on the inside. "Why would you want to do that? Haven't you learned to not talk to strangers?" He almost doubted it when he considered the conversation he'd just overheard.

A small smile twitched her lips for a moment before it was gone. She tilted her head curiously. "You seem like a nice enough person, why not?"

 _Why not? Because I'm a creature with the ability to tear your body apart with only the minutest of strength, that's why not._ Nahuel only stared at the girl, not voicing his drily connotative thoughts.

"Well, I have to go, my mother's gotten herself into trouble," the child informed, and he could almost hear the unsaid 'again'. "So...see you later then."

Nahuel watched as the child walked away with a wave. He stood as still as a statue, listening to her gradually softening footsteps and a distinct "Dang it! _Again_?" when there was the recognizable sound of knees colliding with the ground, until all signs of her presence faded.

He didn't realize, as he continued to think about the strange little girl he'd just met for several moments, that his frustration had waned to little more than irritation simmering in the background of his mind.

Why in the world had she even approached him in the first place?


	3. Chapter 3

**Thbks for reading! Managed to edit (-ish?) this before I get busy with the SAT this week. This is a rather uneventful chapter...Never thought I'd ever write that...It's just setting up for later chapters.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **{EoC}**

"Dang it! _Again?_ "

Isabella grimaced as she picked herself from the wet grass she'd fallen onto from her most recent trip over air. She massaged her sore knee, ignoring the grass stains on her capris, before she started to walk again. After a few minutes of walking along the path she'd originally entered, she recalled what had just transpired within the park. Heat filled her pale cheeks and she studiously ignored it; she could berate herself about her ridiculous behaviour later, right now she needed to get her mother out of trouble.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at how wet the strands were. Not only would she have to go into their funds but her hair would take hours to get untangled. She didn't understand why her mother wouldn't just let her cut it all off, allowing it to grow to mid-back was already too long and troublesome. Taking care of it wasted even more money than necessary.

Thinking of unnecessary spending of money, Isabella couldn't ignore the urge to massage the bridge of her nose. Everywhere they went, her mother - or herself, not that she cared to admit - always found a way to damage _something_ , and extra funds were wasted. Usually, it wasn't much, but on some occasions, the cost was far from appealing to the ten-year-old. She could only guess how much it'd be this time. Not much, if her mother had been completely forthcoming with all that had happened. She really should have prepared an emergency fund by now.

She sighed again. _Next time...because there will be one._

Shaking her head of thoughts of the unfortunately inevitable, she flicked her gaze around. Before she could go back to the hotel, she had to find an ATM to actually get the money. Whether it was a wise choice or not, Isabella was the one who carried their funds, most if not all, as she did not trust her mother while on vacation. She would probably go on a spending spree and go through all they'd saved within three days. Her mother knew this as well, so there weren't any hard feelings, not many anyway.

After a few minutes of walking, and not seeing a single ATM, Isabella was beginning to think the city didn't have any. She didn't want to go into an actual bank, not that she knew where that was, but it would take too long. She had to find a machine and soon; who knew what her mother would do in half an hour? She could be a normal person and quietly wait for her daughter's arrival, or she could be Renee and start talking about random things she'd done and wanted to do until she was thrown out.

Isabella could already guess what her mother would do. _I better find one quick or we'll have to pay more for her being a public disturbance_. She thought dully, and looked up at the sky, momentarily forgetting it was drizzling, and flinched when cold drops hit directly on her eyes. Her foot caught on something on the ground and she felt her body pitch forward. Again. She shut her eyes as she threw her arms out blindly to catch herself.

Before she even touched the ground, she felt hands grasp her shoulders, slowing her motion a bit and jerked her to a stop. "Whoa there, sugar! You okay?"

Isabella wiped her eyes and shivered at the coldness on her arms as she was pulled upright. _What a beautiful voice._ The voice had a southern accent but it did nothing to lessen the beauty of the soft husky voice of what could only be a gorgeous woman. As she blinked her eyes open, she realized just how right she was as she saw a petite woman, just a bit over five feet tall, with long dark blond hair and a heart shaped face partially covered by fashionable black sunglasses.

She was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

Realizing that she had been staring for several moments, Isabella snapped out of her daze and blushed. "Thank you, I'm fine."

"You sure, sugar? You almost took me down with you!" The beautiful woman laughed and the sound was indescribable.

Isabella would've felt compelled to join her if she hadn't understood the woman's words. Her blush deepened a bit and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I should've been watching where I was going." She really should have; she couldn't name all the people who'd been blitzed by her spontaneous trips on two hands.

"It's fine, no harm done," the woman said, waving the apology away dismissively.

"But there coulda been," another voice suddenly said, jovially. Almost as pleasant to the ears as the woman's but clearly male. "Char, you know how _fragile_ you are."

Isabella's chocolate orbs snapped to the man she hadn't noticed just beside the gorgeous woman. Her eyes widened at the tall, adonis-looking man with strong features, short brown hair, and gaudy sunglasses that would've been hideous on anyone else. "Fragile?" She echoed, a bit alarmed, once she got past his appearance.

"Shut it, Peter," the woman snapped at the handsome man, aiming what Isabella figured to be a glare at her...friend? The man raised his hands in mock defence but the grin on his face showed he wasn't cowed. The woman - _Char?_ \- turned back to her with a smile. "Don't listen to him, he just likes messin' with people."

"Oh. Okay..." She nodded slowly.

"Hey! I resent that!" The man protested with a scowl that obviously wasn't real.

"And you'll resent a lot more than that if you keep talkin'," the woman threatened.

Isabella watched with a mixture of amusement and bemusement as the pair, possibly a couple from the teasing bickering, traded threats and promises. Then she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket. It was a text from her mother.

* _Where r u? Ur not having fun r u? Leaving ur own mother here at the mercy of a coffee shop owner while out playing with friends (have you made any?)?! How could you ;_; didn't I raise u with love?_ * - Mother Dearest

Isabella's face twisted. _What nonsense is this?_ What mother sent that kind of message to her daughter? How old did she think she was? Her mother was acting like she had the mentality of a teenager rather than that of the thirty-eight-year-old she was. And that contact name, why hadn't she changed it again?

"Somethin' wrong, sugar?"

Her eyes jerked up from the phone in surprise, she'd forgotten about the pair. Which was weird considering how beautiful and unforgettable they were. "No, it's nothing. But I have to go, my mom's waiting for me." She answered, smiling apologetically.

"Oh." The woman almost looked disappointed. "Well, we don't wanna keep you from your mama. We're gonna be in town for a few days, I'm sure we'll meet again."

Isabella perked up at that. She wanted to see her again? Even after what she almost did? "Ah, okay. Sorry again for almost taking you down with me." She turned with a wave before stopping and glancing back. "You wouldn't happen to know where an ATM is, would you?"

The woman looked surprised for a moment but before she could respond, the man responded. "There's some in most buildings like stores and hotels, not many just out on the street here, because of the rain, I reckon."

Isabella felt the urge to massage the bridge of her nose at that. How could she have missed something so obvious? Of course there wouldn't be any outside, it rained on a regular basis, as far as she knew. And naturally there would be an ATM in a hotel, people were always in need of money there. She sighed at her slowness before smiling gratefully at the pair. "Thank you. It was nice meeting you!"

She began to jog back in the direction she came, hearing their goodbyes but not the exchange that occurred after leaving hearing range.

The grin on the man's face, Peter, fell to a frown. "It's always the purest blossoms that are tainted by decay." He murmured solemnly.

The woman, Char, slit her eyes at her counterpart. "What are you sayin', Peter? Is somethin' gonna to happen to sugar?" She demanded sharply.

"Charlotte," Peter responded, just as sharply, eyes narrowing at her behind his glasses. "We can't interfere. She's not ours to protect. It is the jungle cat's duty. For now."

Char bit her lip, in anxiety or anger was hard to decipher, and nodded reluctantly. "Will she get hurt?"

Peter's eyes tightened. "She will..." He whispered, hating the conflict that raced across Char's face before smoothing away. "But she will heal. We will see."

 **{EoC}**

Isabella reached the hotel she and her mother had decided to stay in and looked around for an ATM. She found one rather easily, to her chagrin, and quickly slid the card and withdrew a hundred. That would be enough for dry-cleaning and a table, wouldn't it? She certainly hoped so, the limit she set for Astoria was down to only to just a bit over a hundred and a half. Her mother would just have to pace her shopping and activities, and she her book shopping.

Pocketing the card and money, she walked a short distance to the coffee shop she'd seen her mother enter. It was a nice place, she noted, closer to the modern café that was typically called "Starbucks" than the old-fashioned shop she imagined, though why her imagination had chosen such was beyond her. The shop - labeled as closed, she saw - was the type of place she'd love to find a cozy spot in and just read all day; there was even a wall of books to one side. Unfortunately, her mother had found it first and possibly gotten them banned.

"Bella! Over here!"

Isabella's lips thinned at the unwanted shortening of her name and boisterous call. Only her mother could sound so cheerfully uncaring of a situation that cost them so much money and, she didn't doubt it, their hotel room. Maybe she was just thinking dramatically, but if anyone could get their rooming revoked just by being in a coffee shop, it was her mother.

It was not a fact she was proud of. Her mother thought otherwise.

Isabella sighed at her thoughts before turning to where she thought she heard her mother's voice. What she saw prevented her from taking another step. She had expected the whimsical and exuberant smile on her mother's face, but she didn't expect the smaller, more restrained one on the face of the man she could only assume was the shop's owner standing behind a counter she sat at. From how she sounded over the phone, she had assumed the boss would be angry and demanding. Why in the world was the man smiling at the woman who ruined his clothing and table?

"Mom," she said slowly after recovering, stepping further into the shop. She swept her gaze around briefly for signs of her mother's disturbance and saw a notable empty space in the center of several sofas. A coffee table, she assumed, and looked back at the smiling pair. Something was odd. "What happened?"

Her mother's smile didn't falter at her lack of pleasantries and she actually laughed. "The usual. I had just ordered my second coffee, it was absolutely delicious just by the way, and I bumped into one of the sofas."

"And then you spilled your coffee," Isabella guessed, stopping beside her mother sitting comfortably on a tall stool.

"Right into Mr. Marshall's lap." Renee continued brightly. "And chest. And hair. And every other surface available from his seat in the sofa. Missed the sofa though!"

Isabella's face showed her lack of amusement. She glanced at the owner to see his reaction to her mother's words and frowned at seeing his slightly embarrassed and humored but not angered expression. "And the table?"

"Like his clothes, another casualty to the fall," her mother said with another laugh.

"I see." Isabella turned to the man behind the counter who'd been silent so far. "How much?" She asked bluntly.

His brows rose in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"Bella!" Her mother scolded half-heartedly before turning back to the man. "She must be angry again," she whispered with a giggle, ignoring the fact her daughter could not only hear her but was scowling at her too. "Mr. Marshall, this is my daughter who's just turned thirty-nine, Bella. Bella, meet Mr. Marshall, owner of this great establishment." She introduced cheerfully.

"Isabella." Came the instant correction. Isabella looked away from her mother with a short roll of her eyes to the man, expression shifting apologetically; she had let her mood get the better of her. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Marshall. Sorry if I was rude."

"It's fine." Mr. Marshall smiled. "I heard from your mom how you're a usually a calm girl but she tends to bring out the frustration in you, doesn't she? Like that time at the pool, I believe?"

"Hey!" Renee protested. "I thought we agreed we never spoke about that!"

Isabella's face went red. "You told him about Mr. Richardson," she accused. Mr. Richardson was one of the numerous people she'd blitzed in her short decade of life. From a time when she was eight and her mother had forced her to attend a swimming lesson with kids her age and socialize, disregarding the fact that Isabella already knew how. Needless to say, the experience was not only pointless for her, she had stated similarly at the time, but it also ended with her humiliation when she tripped - over air, what a shocker - and tackled Mr. Richardson into the pool. After finding her mother laughing uproariously, Isabella had ignored her for an entire week, treating her as if she was just a stranger she didn't care enough for to even be polite to.

Apparently, she fell to being an ill-mannered child when her mother upset her, and that was, unfortunately, often, so it spilled over to others no matter how hard she tried to control it.

Isabella fought down the blush staining her cheeks but it wouldn't go away. She huffed a breath. "So how much do we have to pay from the damage?"

"Bellaaa," her mother whined. "Why do you have to be so old and to the point?"

Chocolate orbs didn't deign to look at her. "Because you won't," she retorted, matter of fact. "Anyway," she proceeded, ignoring her mother's indignation completely. "The cost?"

Mr. Marshall frowned a bit though Isabella couldn't really tell why. "The coffee wasn't too bad," he began, tapping his fingers along the counter rhythmically. "That would only be about twenty, thirty dollars. The table, however, was an antique."

Isabella restrained the urge to slap a hand to her forehead and groan. Antique? Her mother had broken an _antique_? That could cost anything between a hundred to a thousand dollars! This could very well wipe their expenses for two more trips clean and cut their vacation by weeks! "How much?"

The coffee shop owner hummed, clearly delaying, and sighed. "It's four-fifty."

This time Isabella allowed herself to slap her face and sigh heavily. Not as bad as it could've been, but it did deplete their funds to where they had to cut all the activities they could have done in Astoria and completely cancel one trip. The only consolation to that was the fact it was a destination her mother would have chosen.

"It's okay if you don't have enough," Mr. Marshall started to say after she was silent for several moments. "I can put it on your tab-"

"We have enough," Isabella interrupted, moving to take a seat on a stool beside her mother. She paused after she was comfortable. "Sorry for interrupting. We can pay it all, but to keep my mom happy, can we compromise with paying half and working off the other?"

"Oh, my daughter cares for me!" Renee gushed and reached to pull Isabella into hug. She almost regretted sitting down as she was smothered in the woman's arms. "And so smart!"

"We'll pay two-thirds," Isabella amended, and was awarded with a betrayed look from her mother. She'd just cut fifty dollars from her souvenir shopping. Oh, what a pity. "We can pay three hundred, no three-fifty, and we'll work off the last hundred and so." She paused and looked at her mother then back to the man. "I'll work off the last hundred and so."

"What! Do you think I'm incompetent?" Her mother demanded, nothing but, for lack of better term, background noise to Isabella.

"You're rather young," Mr. Marshall stated with audible reluctance, however the girl could see the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. "I don't want the police here on reports of forced child labor..."

Isabella's lips curled at that in mock offense. "I'm actually nearing my fortieth birthday, just ask my mother. I just look young."

The shop owner laughed openly, the reserve he'd shown so far disappearing for a moment before he calmed. "Then I guess I have a new employee. Can you be here by seven in the morning, that's when I open shop."

Isabella smiled widely and nodded enthusiastically. She usually woke up early anyway, since her mother always got up late. But then she remembered they'd only be in Astoria for at most a week and that possibly wasn't long enough to make over a hundred dollars. "When would my...shift end? And for how many days?"

Mr. Marshall tapped his fingers again in thought. "At eleven or noon," he decided. "Your job for now will just be to help me open shop and set tables for customers, so you'll only need to work for, say, four, five days at most? Yeah, about five days."

Isabella nodded, mentally calculating that she'd be working four to five hours, making at least twenty-five dollars a day. Her lips thinned a bit. That's be like working for five dollars an hour and she was pretty sure minimum wage hadn't decreased to that much in recent years. "Does that include breaks?" She questioned, arching a brow.

She got a grin in response. "It does. I noticed you looking at the books when you came in, " he informed, causing her to 'ah' in understanding. "Before the later morning hours, like around ten or eleven, business is typically slow, so you can have that time to relax and then get back to work for the remaining hours. You'll earn around thirty dollars a day."

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And the extra?" She inquired. "Such as tips and the extra from working?" Assuming anyone would deign to leave a tip for her despite her age.

"You get to keep it," he answered with another laugh. "It'd be your your hard earned money after all."

Isabella nodded in satisfaction and slid off her stool. "Then if that's decided, I'll be off. I'll bring the money in the morning. Are you coming mom?" She doubted it; her mother seemed to be enjoying herself with the shop owner. She wondered if she should be worried about that. _Nah, she's an adult. She can handle her own relationships._

"I'll be up in a bit, Bella, don't wait for me," her mother said, as she'd thought, so she cast one more glace at the man behind the counter, who'd started to round the counter and waved in good-bye when he caught her gaze, before turning to walk away. "And don't forget to condition and comb your hair. Don't think I didn't feel how wet it got!"

Isabella scowled at the reminder and left the adults to whatever they were talking about. Minutes later, she was in their room and gathering her clothes to take a shower. She thought of taking a bath, the tub was nice enough, but decided against it since showering would making washing her hair easier. After cleaning herself, and fixing her hair, she slipped into some sweats and a T-shirt, a towel around her neck, and headed to her bed. It wasn't very late, just around six in the evening, so she looked around for her book to read again in the silence that came with lack of her mother's presence. When she didn't immediately find the novel, she tried to recall the last place she'd had it.

She had taken it with her on her walk, Isabella remembered. She had thought that she'd be able to read it once she found the right place. While she had found the right place, she hadn't been in the mood to read. So she had stared at the sky, just thinking, until _that_ man appeared. The beautiful, dark skinned, strangely eyed man who was in agonizing pain. Her heart winced just picturing it, but she shook away the distraction. After seeing his eyes, she'd gotten up to talk to the man...and set her book on the fountain.

 _I forgot it on the fountain,_ Isabella dropped her face onto her pillow and muffled the groan she released. She'd gotten distracted by the man with his curious reactions and left it out in the open, in the rain! She couldn't go back to get it now, she wasn't risking her health right after getting out of a shower, but she would have to get it tomorrow. If it would even still be there. Maybe someone would take it to a lost-and-found if they noticed it? Or keep it, because it was an amazing book.

The girl groaned again before rolling onto her back on her bed and sighed. She would just have to check tomorrow, after getting off from her new job. The thought brought a small smile to her lips. A new job, her first official job. She'd done small things like babysitting neighbors kids or walking there pets for a small payment, which she was saving into a nice sum, but this was a real job, she'd take it serious, especially since it was to pay off a debt.

 _It's not so bad, I get to read from his collection_. Isabella's sighed again and closed her eyes. Maybe she should try to go to sleep early. It would certainly prevent her mother from talking her ear off when she returned. She rolled onto her side and grimaced. It probably wouldn't. Her mother would be jumping with eagerness to tell her about the latest friend she made. She was rather excitable about the people she liked or was at the very least interested in.

If she did, maybe she should tell her about the man and couple she'd met earlier. Isabella considered the prospect before rejecting a part of it. She would tell her about the gorgeous couple, they were quite the characters, and she was sure her mother would enjoy hearing about them. And she would likely meet them again too, if the woman's words could be relied on. But the man at the fountain was a different story. Isabella didn't think it would be wise to speak about him, though she couldn't exactly say why. She knew that it was improbable they would cross ways again, especially if he wasn't a native to Astoria, so she wouldn't mention him. Though she hazarded she might, if the tortured look in the man's gaze before he hid behind an emotionless mask she'd seen was as bad as she thought.

What would happen if he ended up committing suicide?

A shiver of dread went down her spine and twisted in her stomach. She shook her head furiously, unmindful of the water that flew from it, before she stopped and glowered into the darkening hue of the sky visible from the window. Even if the man were to commit suicide - something in her twisted again at the very thought - it wouldn't be anytime soon. She could only base this assumption on what little she had learned from her few minutes in the man's presence. In that short time, she had seen the terrible, festering pain in the man, a pain that _had_ to have led to a thought of relief in death, and then had seen the man cover it with indifference as if he weren't dying on the inside. To do it so cleanly, with such a practised ease, would mean he had suffered through such pain for a very long time.

In addition to theory that he'd suffered for quite a while, Isabella remembered seeing the brief flashes of expression on his face when she tried being spontaneous and enigmatic - emphasis on _tried_ , she just sounded idiotic to herself - so she knew he wasn't so far gone he couldn't experience lighter emotions. There was a chance he wouldn't turn to death as an escape.

Slight as that chance may be, she certainly hoped it would flourish to being a definite future. When they met again, she would help him again. Her hope paused and wilted ever-so-slightly as she caught herself. When they met again? No, _if_ they met again. That future wasn't even definite.

Isabella curled on her side, arms wrapped around her knees loosely that tightened periodically as she wondered about the man. Would they meet again? Gazing at dark clouds outside, she hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for reading! I have no excuses other than the crime of sinning (Sloth :P). Anyway, yep, story is slow, mostly background knowledge. It'll get more eventful eventually...When I find the right inspiration. SAT was easier than expected (my score doesn't reflect that XD) but it's done. Let's see if my writing has improved any from the last chapter...**

 **(P.S. The rating will probably be moved down to T, the other place where it was required to be M had different standards, so I'll change it some time.)**

 **Warning: Terrible jokes, minor cursing, and terrible accent. I have no sense of humor, well, not a good one anyway. I don't curse, it just doesn't sound right coming from me. And even though I'm from the south...I'm very very proper.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **{EoC}**

After the strange child had left, Nahuel remained seated at the chrome fountain, basking in the tranquility of nature and solitude. His honeyed teak orbs were shut, his head tilted back, as he allowed the cool, gentle drizzle of rain to wash along his hot skin, its rhythmic patters to shutter out all thoughts and disturbances, its purifying scent to dull the ache within him. The perfect conditions to meditate away from the unnaturalness of the city and the madness known as his father.

But, as Nahuel knew well, there was no such thing as true peace.

Not even an hour had passed in tranquil silence when his ears detected the near inexistent sound of steps on the worn paths of the park. He did not shift from his position in spite of knowing there were only a few creatures capable of such a feat. There were two sets of steps, he catalogued mindfully. The chances of the owner of one being his father were negligible, the man was still ensconced in his abominable research in the basement and when he wandered, he wandered alone. The likelihood of either being his eldest sister's were nearly as small, seeing as the woman was currently ignoring his existence, jealous over their father's attention resting primarily on himself. There was a possibility of the two being his remaining sisters, Maysun and Jennifer, but he was well aware neither of them treaded remotely as stealthily, as _predatorily_ as what he heard now, despite being born predators.

This left a very small number of individuals for Nahuel to select from. There were only so many who'd willingly walk into a city marked openly as claimed territory by a clearly ancient vampire, even for curiosity's sake alone. Coming into one the few, very few, cities personally marked by the virtually unknown ancient Joham Demilis required a reason. Not many were obliged with such. Thus he could safely conclude the identities of the two closing in on his position at a sedate human pace.

"Well, look at that." A voice tinged with familiar humor and inpropriety commented snarkily as the footsteps broke through the trees. "I told you he'd be waitin' and broodin' with the familiar stick stuck up his ass."

"Yeah, you did." A softer voice snorted softly. "But sticks and stones, Pete. Sticks and stones."

"...Are you tryin' to say he's gonna beat me with the stick shoved up his ass?"

"Your words, not mine. Now shut up about it, you've been singin' about it the whole walk."

"Wha- Char! What are you tryin' to imply about me?"

The second voice scoffed. "I ain't implying anythin', you're the one who's been _singin_ ' and _gigglin_ ' every time you mention a stick and his-"

 _"La-la-la-la-la_! I'm not listening!"

Nahuel's eyes slitted open at the familiar lighthearted banter to see a dark haired man and blond woman that he hadn't met in near two decades. Peter and Charlotte Whitlock, mates native to Texas though he knew them to almost nomadically meander all across the globe, and two of the only people he'd ever consider to be friends. "Peter, Charlotte," he greeted shortly, though not unkindly.

"Nah-chan," Peter returned cheekily, grinning. "How's it goin'? Can't say it looks well, seein' as you're broodin' like a certain duck-assed haired emo I was acquainted with in Tokyo."

Nahuel stared blandly at the man before dismising every nonsensical word that escaped his mouth with ease cultivated from an unfortunate near century and a half of acquaintanceship. "What are you doing here?" He inquired bluntly.

Before Peter could speak, likely to spout more meaningless drivel, Char stepped on his foot casually, gracefully ignoring the cracks that parted the ground and the curses escaping her mate's mouth. "We've business to attend to with the Scientist." She said, all humor bled dry from her voice.

Honeyed teak locked with two pairs of shaded scarlet. The "Scientist" was something of a "cute" cognomen the couple had given his sire when informed they were forbidden to say his name outside of permitted company. And the only time they used it was when his father sent for them to conduct "business" of some sort, which were the only times they visted as well nowadays.

So his sire was onto another subject, and here he was wallowing in self-pity like some angst-ridden teenager. _Disgraceful._ He tightened the iron grip he had on his emotions and nodded to the couple in undestanding. This was not the time to be distracted by such triviatlies as his pain; his father was up to something, and he wasn't about to just stand idle.

"I will lead you to the mansion." Nahuel stated as he stood smoothly. With a fluid step, he was beside the couple. "What method would you-" He paused mid-sentence as he caught the faint scent of lilies and irises. An infinitesimal amount of tension bled from his shoulders before he registered the origin of the scent.

Had the child returned? His eyes snapped sharply to where he traced the scent and narrowed as they landed on a white rectangular object sitting on the edge of the fountain. He strode to the object and picked it up assessingly. It was a novel titled _Ripper,_ to which he couldn't help crooking a brow at, and the child's sweet scent, though slightly washed away by the rain, saturated it noticeably. The child liked to read, he surmised, and judging with the title and bloodstained cover, she liked to read disturbing works of fiction.

 _More proof that something's not quite right with that child's mind_ , he thought distantly, taking notice of its bruised spine as he turned the book in his fingers.

The child had likely forgotten the book in her rush to reach her mother. Nahuel doubted the child would return to get the book in the rain if it was missed, especially not since it was beginning to grow dark. Now the question was, what to do with it? He could simply leave it for the child to find it the next day, or take it out of the rain before it became more damaged than it already was in the nightly storms common in Astoria. It wasn't a complicated desicion to consider, but his brow furrowed a bit when his choice didn't become clear immmediately. It was completely illogical and out of the question for him to meet the child again - her scent was too alluring, even if not that of a singer's enticing palatability. Yet he found himself reluctant to just leave the novel, obviously well liked if the saturated sweetness was any indication, to be ruined.

"Just take it, Nah-chan," Peter remarked dryly from where he stood at the trees' edge, rolling his eyes behind his shades. "It sure ain't gonna do more bad than good to leave it."

Nahuel glanced at the man with narrowed eyes and arched a brow. "How could taking a little human's novel do any good?"

"How the hell am _I_ supposed to know that? Do I _look_ like omniscience personified?" Peter sneered derisively, but Nahuel saw no real intent behind it and refrained from rolling his eyes at the man's act.

 _His gift must be at work again then._ Though the Whitlocks didn't bother to give it a name, Peter possessed the ability to know things; the future, the past, fact, lies, or as the man put, he 'just knew shit'. It had never been wrong as far as he knew, so Nahuel supposed now wasn't the time to doubt it. His eyes flicked to the novel in his hands cloaked in the sweet aroma of irises and lilies. Even if it appeared to be dismally incorrect.

His lips twitched into a small frown, disapproving of the choice, but only released a soft sigh and nodded resignedly. "Come," he said, choosing to walk a swift but human pace in the direction of the mansion.

Nahuel trusted Peter's word, as he always had since befriending Charlotte and him over a century ago when they'd just escaped the hellish battlefield known as the Southern Wars. When they were saved from the hellhole they fell into by his sire. His lips twisted. _Saved?_ If its meaning could be equated to _damned,_ then that was exactly what his father had done.

He shook his head softly to shove the unsavory thoughts away from the forefront of his mind; it was unfortunate that his kind were able to think of so many things at once. "Where have you two been over the past two decades?" He murmured amicably, if dully.

"Just the usual," Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "Travelin', kickin' back with pandas, defendin' the Elemental Nations from pedo-snakes, slayin' men with holes in their chests in a white desert, borin' stuff like that."

Nahuel looked at the man incomprehensibly, and turned away dismissively to Charlotte. "Translation, if you will?"

Char sighed and reflexively massaged the bridge of her nose, more out of habit than necessity. "We've been travelin' like usual, huntin' crminals, this time in Asia. Unwisely, we went into Japan and Peter took a likin' to it's...culture. He hadn't gotten far though, since we were...called, but he got through enough that he's gonna be crackin' jokes for a while."

Nahuel almost snorted as she sighed again wearily, appearing as resigned to her mate's latest fixation as she was to his perpetual indecency. She seemed more like his minder than his mate and wife of over a century. They hadn't changed a bit.

"How have you been, sug'?" Char asked when he did not respond. "We haven't been on this side of the world in years, so I'm afraid we don't know much of what's goin' on."

Nahuel shrugged insouciantly. "Nothing significnt has occured. We've stayed inside the States since Jennifer, my little sister, was born. Only moving around when we've...Exhausted our resources available. Other than that, it has been uneventful."

He could feel the couple's eyes on his back at his short reply and a scowl curled his lips. The use of euphemisms wherever his father was concerned did not go unnoticed by his longtime friends. 'Exhausted our resources'; a polite way of saying his father terrorized a small town by kidnapping every inhabitant one by one in a sick reenactment of Maysun's favorite horror novel for her birthday; a nice way of summing up the winter when Serena trapped dozens of humans - adults thankfully - within a waterless, foodless, dark storage room "to study their reaction to deprivation of commodities", leading to the entire area being evacuated once she let them loose into the city, rabid and insane; an underwhelming confession of the numerous times his baby sister was allowed to run amock and feast on as many humans as physically possible as she competed with her sisters on "family bonding outings"...of which he also participated.

"What do you-"

"We're here," Nahuel cut her off curtly as they entered into the forest surrounding the mansion, the overwhelming scent of musky woodlands cloying at his acute senses so much he could taste it. His lips pressed together thinly and he smoothly transitioned from human pace to one not unlike lightning. He lead the couple through the dark, gothic interior - Jennifer's latest interest, which were usually not unlike Peter's fixations - bypassing the halls occupied by his sisters to his private corridor. He slowed to human strides again and opened the door to his private study, allowing the Whitlocks to enter before sweeping his gaze through the dark hall and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"Nice place you got here, Nah-chan," Peter said, whistling appreciatively, and Nahuel turned to see the southern vampire eyeing his shelves of old, fine wines and champagnes. "Seems you're not as much as a prude as you used to be, huh?"

Nahuel wisely ignored the man, his behaviour was to be expected, and slid his eyes to the walls lined with his collection of books and novels where Charlotte was scanning raptly with uncovered scarlet eyes, unsurprisingly. He didn't speak as he slid onto a comfortable black sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture in the nearly barren room aside from his desk and a small coffee table, closing his eyes briefly before slitting them open again.

"What business brought you here?" He questioned, seeing no reason to delay his inquiries. He was inevitably going to ask them to inform him, he always did the few instances they returned for such purposes, so there was little reason to keep exchanging pleasantries with more important matters to discuss.

Neither Whitlock responded immediately, both freezing to absolute stillness, flawless faces blanking like ice. Nahuel almost felt guilty for shattering the companionable atmosphere, but again, they had more important matters to discuss at hand. After a split second of empty silence, he saw Peter's hand clench into a tight fist, belying the dismissive 'tch' sound he made from the corner of his eye, and Charlotte left her perusal of his bookcases, taking a seat on the sofa in front of him with intrinsic elegance even as she slumped over minutely with a weary sigh.

His eyes sharpened; nothing short of heinous after all they'd experienced could draw this reaction. What had his father done to warrant such a reaction? It was as if they were nearly at the end of their limits, and he knew from personal experience just how far the limits went.

"The usual," Char answered, causing Nahuel's brows to rise it. Why would the usual cause such a reaction now? "We collected blood from our prey as well as some vampires on the way," she clarified, seeing the confusion in his gaze. "But this time was different. We had to collect the blood from vampires with _gifts,_ any we could find and were able to garner a substantial enough amount to go within one of those venom-proof cases he created."

Honeyed teak widened before narrowing. Blood from gifted vampires specifically? What could his father possibly want with that? Gifts weren't passed through blood after all, nor by sire inheritance through venom during the change to vampirism. Either Joham had discovered some hint of a relation between a vampire's blood and their ability or it was just one of his striking curiosities he couldn't ignore and wouldn't until the endeavor proved fruitful or pointless. Nahuel wasn't sure which he preferred; while the former was alarming, the latter would open to another season of his sire's obsessive tendencies that included explicit experimentation on whatever he could get his hands on. And Joham Demilis could get his hands on quite a bit.

Charlotte shifting in her seat lifted him from the deepest of his thoughts and he focused back on her at the habitual human movement. "Aside from the blood, we also located a number of rare, highly toxic, highly _narcotic_ plants indigenous only to Japan's unique mountains."

Nahuel's fingers drummed idly on the soft fabric of the sofa beneath him as he thought silently. Poisonous and toxic plants weren't a new topic worthy of perusal, as many of his father's ingenious creations featured them as ingredients, but narcotics were. He'd never seen the so-called scientist show any interest in such substances, considering they had no effect on vampires, but then again, he was sure he hadn't seen more than the uppermost layers of the being he called his father. "Do you have any ideas what he might be doing?"

"None," Charlotte said flatly, brows furrowed slightly in what Nahuel recognized as frustration. "Despite sendin' us off on these missions for decades, he never gives anythin' away. He provides us a location, general description of what he wants, and sends us off, nothin' more. He's not let on a damn thing of his ploys since taking us from _her."_ Her lips twisted into a snarl. "I used to think nothin' would be worse than bein' forced to act on _her_ whims, but searching for ingredients for that _bastard_ and not knowin' what the hell he's doin' with 'em, what atrocities he's committin', I'm starting to reconsider."

Nahuel twitched as he winced internally, partly due to guilt of just being associated with the man who was far worse than the woman who'd practically enslaved his friends, partly due to the revival of memories of the time when he'd personally witnessed the deeds they'd been forced to commit in their darkest times. Back on the battlefield, where survival was questionable, whether the _desire to live_ was questionable. He grudged them naught for what he'd seen, despite the sole purpose of his presence near the conflict being a lesson of his father, a lesson utilizing the opportune sight of vampires at their worst - where they were little more than slaves to their most primal instincts.

He couldn't grudge them anything without being a hypocrite; he'd fought as well in his short existence, and not only for as pure reasons as to survive like his friends.

"My insight or whatever the hell it is ain't goin' off, so you can stop that train of thought right now, Char!" Peter asserted bluntly, grabbing her chin to force her to look up and meet his twin scarlet gaze. "The Scientist hasn't done a thing worth a damn with the things we got him besides a few concoctions that did no harm to anybody that didn't deserve it! You can be frustrated when we actually have solid confirmation of the crimes he committed, and seein' as we don't have that, I expect you to calm down and think. Nothin' will be resolved if you let your anger control you."

Nahuel stared listlessly as he listened to the assertive words of the brunet. Peter was right, as always, when the situation required him to be serious. While he himself wasn't as innocent from involvement that harmed others, getting emotional over it would change nothing. Before reacting in any way, their best course of action was to remain calm and search for the answers to their questions. It was the only thing they _could_ do.

"You too, Nahuel," Peter said, scarlet eyes sharp as glass as he cut him a glance that said his words were not a request. "Don't focus on the past or what might be, keep your eyes on moving forward. No good'll come from you actin' like a guilty, self-deprecating _bi-"_

"I understand," Nahuel vocalized flatly. And he did, to an extent. He couldn't forget the past, but he would try his damnedest to keep moving despite, no matter how hard wading through the thick blood and carcasses that were his failures was.

"And what are exactly are you gonna do now that you know?"

Nahuel blinked, unnecessarily, and stared at his old friend. "I beg your pardon?"

Peter's eyes narrowed at him, intent sharpening as he met his stare with a penetrating gaze. "We've told you of the things the Scientist has had us do, the objects he's requested us collect, any slightest hint of an agenda he might have for almost a century. Yet, I've not seen you do a single damn thing about it."

Nahuel went as still as a statue, eyes wide. _What?_

Charlotte's scarlet eyes flew between the men but she said nothing.

"I know you despise the atrocious acts he's done," Peter continued, voice cool and matter-of-fact. "I know you resent the authority he exudes over your sisters. I know the fury you feel every time he makes you watch and sometimes participate in his experiments." The man leaned forward ever-so-slightly, as if to bore into him even more. "And I know that you've done little more than cull the worst of his crimes. But you've never done anythin' to _stop_ him. Why?"

Nahuel felt his mind blank.

Stop him? Stop his father, his sire? Stop _Joham Demilis_? The man who singlehandedly managed to survive for centuries, over a _millennium_ without alarming the entire vampire world to his existence? The man who evaded detection from the oldest known covens, the Romanian _and_ the Volturi? The man he saw personally _massacre a small army of newborns by himself_ just because he felt their creator was becoming tedious?

How could he stop _that?_

Peter's eyes hardened, though Nahuel didn't see, with something not unlike understanding. He knew exactly what the slightly older man was thinking - the monstrous shadow that played in the woodworks of the vampire world, evading discovery yet being undoubtedly one of most influential figures within it. A seemingly unstoppable force behind the scenes.

But Peter also knew there was no such thing as an infallible being. He opened his mouth to state as such but stopped as he heard muted footsteps outside the door. He looked at Nahuel and saw the man instantly snap to attention, alertness replacing the blankness. _A survivor's alertness_ , he thought wearily. But anything was better than emptiness. He deserved so much better than that.

Nahuel flashed to his feet and to the door as he heard faint steps outside. Most of the rooms in the mansion were soundproof, a modification his father kindly allowed when his sister still required sleep, but that wasn't enough to eliminate absolutely all to a vampire's hearing, just dull to near imperceptible. His lips pressed into a thin line as he closed a hand around the doorknob; the conversation hadn't been very loud - he pushed the content to the back of his mind - but depending on who was outside it, that fact would be rendered irrelevant.

He went through the possibilities of who it could be in a fraction of a second, eliminating his father - away from the mansion; the telltale sign of his musky scent permeating the halls was considerably dulled, Serena - avoiding him, Ellen - forbade access to his chambers. That left Maysun and Jennifer. Both of their scents had been fresh when he arrived with the Whitlocks, so it could be either. Neither were preferred, given their adoration for their father, but better than any of the others.

With a small glance to his guests, who were now waiting tensely in ever-so-slight crouches, scarlet gazes locked on the door, he braced for whichever was on the other side of the door. He opened it with little hesitation, jaw tight with anticipation of questions-

And immediately balked as he saw Jennifer sniffing the air, eyes closed as she moaned. "What is that _scent?_ Did you find the sweetest human on Earth and not tell me? How cruel, you know I love sweets, Nel!"

Nahuel stiffened, eyes widening infinitesimally as he lifted his chin to scent the air. The child's scent pervading her book had lingered in the hall despite his speed. And Jennifer - loving, gentle, hybrid-superiority complex harboring Jennifer with an inclination for sweet blood had caught the scent.

He'd just endangered the life of an innocent little girl.

Nahuel couldn't stop the deep growl that curled in his chest. He grabbed his little sister's shoulders and forced her to look at him, even as she started at the sudden movement. "You will _not_ go after this scent. Do you hear me, Jennifer? You will not pursue it."

His sister's wide blue eyes stared at him with shock and a bit of fear. "What? But-"

" _You will not_." He repeated, hands tightening. He wouldn't allow it. There were so many lives he had jeapordized but couldn't save - that little girl would not be one them.

"I-I won't chase the scent." Jennifer stuttered and Nahuel finally noticed the strength of the grip he had on her shoulders and the slight scent of fear wading off her.

He took a step back quickly, eyes widening in slight panic at how he'd reacted. He'd intimidated his sister into submission. Something _he_ would have done.

"If you wanted to play with your prey by yourself you should've just said so, jeez," Jennifer grumbled while rubbing her shoulders, capturing Nahuel's attention again. "I never knew you were so possessive, Nel, this one must be quite the catch if you don't just give it to me..."

Nahuel stared at his pouting little sister, speechless for a moment, before breathing out silently in relief. Despite the misunderstanding, she wouldn't hunt the child. "I apologize for the overreaction, Jennifer," he said softly, honey teak glowing with honesty.

His sister pouted for a moment later before huffing and rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, I've gotten a similar reaction from Serena when we both spot the same hot m...er, hot-blooded male. No need to be so formal."

His eyes narrowed at the slip of tongue but he let it pass as he heard a cough from behind him. A frown graced his lips as he saw his sister start at the sound, she had apparently not noticed his guests. Inattention bred from the peace of America; he would have to work on that...

"I believe introductions are in order," Peter said with a grin reminiscent of a court jester. He bowed at the waist almost mockingly, while Charlotte merely rolled her eyes in the background. "This one's name happens to be Piteru Witolaku, it is an honor for you to meet me, dattebane!"

Nahuel's face blanked and he felt, more than saw, the 'What the fuck' expression on his sister. There were reasons, as few as they were, why he was glad his old friends weren't able to visit often. The sheer amount of pure inanity Peter could dredge from the very depths of his questionable soul was one of them. He genuinely feared that his impressionable little sister would be tainted just by being within his vicinity.

Charlotte held her face in her hands as she took deep, useless breaths, presumably to stop herself from strangling her husband.

Nahuel wondered why Peter was still alive before crediting it to Char's infinite love if not patience for the man and turned to his sister. "Jennifer, this is an old friend of mine, Charlotte." He said, masterfully tuning out the constant stream of useless information from the claimed 'Piteru Witolaku'. "Charlotte, my little sister Jennifer."

The women shook hands and Nahuel was unsurprised to see the two get along. Jennifer hadn't met many female vampires, or vampires at all, when she was still aging, so it was not surprising to see her take to the cool, elegant and collected Charlotte, who apparently just didn't mind children. Nahuel narrowed his eyes pensively, perhaps he could convince Charlotte to visit more often. If not only to expand his sister's social skills and natural instincts, then to lessen the influence of her elder sisters and father or anyone else his father associated with.

"Well, I guess I should get going," Jennifer said after a few minutes of conversing animatedly. "I'm pretty hungry so...don't give me that look, Nel! I said I wouldn't go after that scent, it's all yours! I was going to go get some Italian. Did you...?"

Nahuel smiled slightly at the offer but shook his head apologetically. "We were still discussing some business." He didn't miss the short expression of disappointment that flashed across her face and fought a frown. He hadn't been out to to dinner with her in weeks, he supposed. "I'll take you out for seafood after they leave, they won't be here for long, okay?"

Her blue eyes brightened considerably and she let forward to give him a quick hug. "'Kay, I'll keep you on that promise, Nel!" She slipped out of his room just as quickly as she'd appeared with cheerful 'Ciao ciao!' and wave.

Nahuel stared after her for a second before shaking his head and closing the door. She had turned out so optimistic and caring despite their father's rather oppressive upbringing. Joham didn't go out of his way to crush every semblance of happiness, but Jennifer was an unexpected product of his heavy yet hands off rearing. Then again, maybe not, Maysun was also rather excitable as well as gregarious even at her age now. Serena too, when one looked at it from a different angle, hadn't turned out nearly as dark and bloodlusting as one would expect from his firstborn child. She had her moments of childishness - such as ignoring him out of jealousy despite being twice his age - and humanity, for lack of better word.

It was rather bewildering that Joham hadn't tried - that Nahuel knew of - to rid them of such characteristics. Nahuel was under no illusion of how observant and insightful his father was, nor was he unaware that he could _cure_ them of such things had he wanted too. Why didn't he?

"She was cute," Charlotte commented after a moment. "I'm charmed."

Nahuel cracked a small smile. "Indeed."

"She looks nothin' like the Scientist."

"She takes after her mother, but she shares some...features," Nahuel disagreed reluctantly. Some features more than others, like the habit of... _overenthusiastically_ conveying feelings. Nahuel grimaced, it was habit that, unfortunately, they all shared, if in different aspects.

"Like what?" Charlotte asked, cocking her head to the side curiously.

Nahuel felt the urge to open a bottle of champagne and down it in one go; wouldn't help though, venom burned faster than alcohol spread. Pity. "Hmm," he leaned his hip against the side of his desk, "well..."

"Let's go get some coffee."

Nahuel and Charlotte turned as one to look at the Peter who had somehow managed to pull out an eyepatch. "You do recall you cannot consume liquids, don't you?" Nahuel inquired after Charlotte just shook her head with a pained look.

"What do you mean," Peter cried indignantly. "It's the only thing we can digest other than human intestines!"

Charlotte began tochant a mantra under her breath so quickly Nahuel couldn't interpret it entirely but he heard the words "love" and "don't kill" then "Major" and "revenge".

"So yeah, coffee!" Peter repeated, now with a white wig covering his dark hair. "We passed one on the way."

"Peter," Nahuel called lightly to his friend.

"Yeah? You ready to go?"

"Get out of my study."

"Aww, but Nel!"

"Get out before I make that eyepatch necessary."

When the couple had taken residence several doors away in the guest room of his chambers, Nahuel went into his own bedroom and stepped out onto his balcony. It was late, and there was no moon to illuminate the night, but light wasn't necessary for his eyes to make out the life even active when the sun had set. As he peered out into the gloom, he could only wonder about the stillness, stillness that was the stormy night, and the beings that just sauntered into it and shattered its seeming serenity.

 _Why?_ He wondered. Why did they return now of all times, in a time of such peace and tranquility? Even if that peace was an illusion constructed by Joham's meticulous fingers, why was it disrupted now? After so many years free of the conflict and catastrophe that followed in the wake of their travels.

Regardless of whether he liked it or not, he was certain he would find out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for reading. Sorry for the wait, distractions are very distracting to a person prone to being distracted. In short, school and hobbies. So, I said this was slow, right? Well, this was the chapter I finally found where I was going (somewhat). I hope I can write it, this chapter is the beginning. I hope it's not too boring or obvious... Also, I'm an idiot. I'm not gonna write anything explicit (cause that scene with the eye gouging wasn't, I think) so the rating will be changed to T.**

 **On with the story.**

 **{EoC}**

Chocolate brown orbs narrowed as they inspected two different pairs of pants, one dark blue denim, the other plain black slacks. To the side was a long-sleeved, off-white collared shirt with a dark violet vest, already subjected to the same sharp scrutiny. Isabella's lips pursed as she grabbed both pairs and held them up for perusal. "Which is better? Should I be going causal or more formal? Mr. Marshall didn't specify, but he was wearing suit pants, wasn't he? I should just go with the slacks, shouldn't I?"

A wounded sounding groan answered the girl's inquiry. _"Bella,_ you're preparing for work, not a date with your future husband." Any time other than the crack of dawn, Renee Higgins would have been delighted to see her fashion-illiterate daughter scrambling for what to wear. But now she just wanted to crawl back under the decently soft sheets of her bed and fall into an oblivion away from the damning concept known as day.

Isabella didn't even register the disliked nomenclature. "But this is my first day of work. For my first job!" She expressed excitedly. She stared at the pants hard for a moment before tossing the denim back onto her bag. "Slacks, formal is better for the first day," she decided, nodding surely.

"The _best,"_ her mother crowed from beneath her sheets. "Now get out and let me get some sleep. It's barely past six!"

Isabella glanced at the digital clock that said it was five after. A slightly guilty and sheepish expression flashed over her face before she pouted. Her mother was an elementary school teacher, she should be used to waking early by now. Turning away from the cocoon of bedsheets, she began to dress, taking her time so no obvious wrinkled were made. After sliding on some socks, she slid on durable black, leather boots - who knew why her mother got them; they weren't exactly what you'd call easy on the eyes, and God knew the two would never go hiking. Isabella scoffed at the thought as she laced up the strings. While she wouldn't use them for their intended purpose, she liked their simplicity and durability; they were far more practical than the heels her mother had tried to get her to wear.

Once she was done dressing, she glanced at a mirror briefly, nodding in satisfaction as her nerves fluttered lightly. Checking the time once more, twenty minutes after six, she grabbed her jacket and made sure she had all she would need for the day. She wasn't carrying anything much other than a small shoulder bag that held a bit of emergency cash, her phone, and the credit card holding their vacation funds and the money to reimburse the coffeeshop owner. She was a bit wary of carrying them so early in the morning, especially since she was in an unfamiliar town, but she was relatively sure that Astoria was safe; she wouldn't have chosen the city had the crime rate been worth mentioning.

Isabella parted the opening in the curtains to see what the weather was like and relaxed a bit in relief at finding it was no longer raining, just a little misty, and reasonably light for six in the morning. She had decided to retrieve her book from the fountain, assuming it was still there, regardless of whatever damage had occurred to it. She hadn't finished it and there was no way she was wasting a book that nearly cost her twenty dollars.

She turned back to the ball curled up on the bed a few feet away. She tilted her head a bit in consideration, deliberating whether to let her mother sleep in or pestering her into waking. The woman had come in rather late the night before though, so she went with the former, mercifully. "Mom, I'm going," she told her lowly, trying not to disturb her sleep too much.

She received a hybrid of a grunt and groan in response. "Have a nice day, Bella," her mother mumbled almost indiscernibly. "Don't drop too many coffee cups, sweetie."

Isabella rolled her eyes at the advice. "I'll be back a bit after noon, you'll have to find breakfast on your own. _Do not_ attempt to recreate my seventh birthday," she implored the woman. Renee was many things, but a good cook was not one of them. Before that birthday, Isabella had never known how vanilla, vinegar, and garlic salt tasted mixed together, nor had she ever wanted to. She received another grunt. "Okay, I'm going. Just...just try not to damage anything else, we might actually be asked to leave the premises this time."

She was already striding out the door with a small smirk by the time an affronted "Hey!" was heard. Ignoring the belated reaction, the girl shut the door behind her and began to head out the hotel. She passed by her new workplace on the way out, but there was no one inside that she could see. She would have around twenty minutes or so to go to the fountain and back if she wanted to be on time for her first day, hence the choice of wearing boots. The fountain wasn't very far, if her memory served correctly, so she would be able to make it, as long as no accidents occured on the way.

She grimaced. _I hope I didn't just jinx myself_. Shaking her head of the foolish thought - superstitions were more her mother's forte - she began the short walk to the recreational park she'd visited the day before. Walking swiftly, she reached the same rock path and followed it, only glancing at the beautiful scenery that surrounded her. She admired flowers as much as the next person, but she cared much more for the possibly waterlogged novel she neglected to remember.

Isabella arrived at the chrome fountain in around five minutes with no trouble, if one ignored a brief moment where she ran into a morning jogger. She checked the place where she sat only to see the spot empty. After staring at the spot for a few seconds as if the novel would suddenly appear, she walked in a circle around the fountain to see if she'd been mistaken in where she sat, then into the water of the fountain in case it had been pushed in. Finding nothing, she did a cursory glance of the trees around her, knowing there would be nothing to find.

A groan mixed with a heavy sigh left her mouth as she dragged a hand down her face. _Someone took it. Of course someone took it._ Her brows knitted downward in irritation for a moment before she breathed in deeply and huffed a breath. _Nothing to do about it now._ With a dissapointed sigh, she turned away and began to head back out of the park.

 _I'll have to replace it. There should be a half-price bookstore somewhere here_ , she considered absently. She would get her mother to search for one on the Internet. Nodding decisively, she took out her phone and checked the time, immediately quickening her speed when she saw it was twenty minutes til seven. Practically jogging, she exited the park without any further delay. Seeing the flowers and green fade, she couldn't help the passing thought of the man she'd met. She wondered if he had made it home before the storm set in the night before. Or if he had sat in the downpour, drowning in his sorrows.

She shook her head once more as she felt the same pain as before grip her heart. _It doesn't matter. I probably won't even see him again._ Isabella's lips thinned as she felt a twinge of disappointment. Astoria was small, but not so small one could take a walk and meet every single resident. There was little chance that she'd just happened to run into him, and she wasn't going to ask around like a stalker. Though, she didn't think it would be too hard to find him if she did; a man that beautiful was sure to have a trail of gossip a mile wide.

 _Mom will probably hear something_ , she mused drily. Isabella snorted airily. Her mother could deny it, but she loved gossiping with whoever was open enough to do so, even with a stranger. Maybe I'll hear something at the shop. _Hopefully not about his passing...agh._ She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. She was such a pessismist sometimes. Being realistic was tiring at times like these; where was her "youthful optimism", as her mother would say.

Rolling her eyes, she dispersed the thoughts as she arrived back at the hotel and made her way to the coffeeshop. The sign said the shop was still closed, but she could see light inside now. She walked up to the door, hand raising to knock when she noticed a second too late that there were voices conversing inside. Unfortunately, it was too late to abort the action and the voices inside immediately halted. Blinking with the beginnings of curiosity, Isabella leaned forward a bit to catch any sounds inside and flinched back when the door was suddenly opened.

Mr. Marshall was smiling down at her welcomingly. "Ms. Swan, I almost thought you wouldn't make it." He said casually. "I'm sure you'd rather spend a summer morning sleeping in."

She shrugged a bit as she returned the smile. "I'm a morning person," she said simply. "Thanks for allowing me to work here. Am I early enough?"

"I open shop at seven o'clock on the dot, so it would be best if you arrive at six-thirty."

Isabella nodded at the information. "I'll remember that," she replied, somewhat distantly as she saw movement behind the owner. Peering around him subtly, she caught a flash of blond hair going out a door she hadn't seen prior, closing with a slam. The sound reminded her where she was and she glanced around the empty establishment. It was the same as yesterday, except now she could smell the rich scent of coffee softly pervading the room.

"Ms. Swan," the shop owner called her attention. "Since today is your first day, I'll be showing you the ropes. Just how to use the coffee machine, the cash register and similar, but you won't have to do much of that today." He led her to the counter and wall where the mentioned machines were, pointing each out and giving a brief explanation on how each worked. "Today you will mainly be taking the orders of customers and giving them to me to make. You should be watching closely when I do, for reference later on. And then you'll be serving the orders, depending on what they are as some take longer than others."

Isabella absorbed the information eagerly, though she felt a bit worried about the serving part. How many cups would be in pieces by the end of her hours? She grimaced before focussing back on her new boss. "Mr. Marshall, do you have any other workers," she asked curiously. As far as she could tell, they were the only two there and it was almost time to open for the day.

"Ah, I have some part-time workers but both called in sick today, coincidentally," he informed, muttering the last part with slight irritation. It didn't last long though as a wry smile quirked his lips. "There is also a cook at the back who makes small breakfast meals and desserts, but he's not exactly keen on speaking to other people. You probably won't see much of him unless one of the regulars who actually know of his existence come here to make an order."

Isabella's brows rose in surprise and interest. She had thought it would just be a straight coffee shop, despite its claim of being "Starbucks", with no other offers other than the sizable collection of books and quiet. "Oh, I see..." She felt the urge to go and glance behind the door this cook likely was somewhere behind but resisted. She knew better than to be led by her whims like a certain whimsical school teacher.

"Any other questions?" Mr. Marshall asked.

She though about it for a moment before shaking her head. Nothing came to mind that had to do with her job. "I'll learn as I go," she said confidently, earning a small smile from the owner.

 **{EoC}**

The first hour passed by with little need for Isabella's assistance. There were only a handful of customers, and they were only passing by to grab a cup of coffee and were gone in less than a minute. She managed to learn how to operate the coffee machine quickly at least. The next hours flew by with the odd visitor, one or two staying, but again, none in need of her help so she remained on a stool near the front counter, reading idly from a book of short stories she'd managed to convince her boss to let her read.

When it was a bit before eleven, business began to pick up. Individuals or groups suddenly began to come in and Isabella had to drop her book on the counter to fumble for the small notebad Mr. Marshall had given her to take orders. She flitted through the line of adults and teenagers both quickly, though at first she was embarrassingly stilted and clumsy when attempting to write the orders word for word, she developed a rhythm after the first five or so. The easiest method was to take only two or three orders at a time, direct them to free seats, and relay the order to her boss before going to those next in line.

The task was surprisingly tiring, but was made even more so when she had to carry the orders to their tables. She'd very nearly mixed up orders and had to wrack her brain to devise another method to remember who ordered what. After sorting out those kinks by just assigning people numbers - to which Mr. Marshall later blithely admitted was the usual method and he'd "just happened" to forget to inform her - she spent the next hour fetching trays of mugs or cups from the front to deliver throughout the room, which was thankfully not as big as other coffeeshops, but still tiring to one who didn't exercise much. One such as Isabella. She had never been particularly athletic, and that wasn't changing any time soon.

She was also never been particularly nimble on her feet. And despite no accidents occuring in the first four hours...that wasn't changing any time soon either.

"Isabella, order number forty-three through forty-six are ready!" Mr. Marshall - "Bryan" to some visitors - called from behind the counter.

Isabella finished placing two styrofoam cups carefully on a table, responding to given gratitude graciously, before walking swiftly to retrieve the orders which were ceramic mugs this time. She set them in a triangle on her tray to keep them balanced, as she had done a few times before, and started back at a reasonable speed to prevent dissatisfied customers.

She was halfway to her destination when gravity decided she didn't deserve to have two feet planted squarely on the ground.

Somehow, when walking between the tables of the shop, Isabella had miraculously timed it to where a boy was coincidentally yawning and throwing his arms back haphazardly and she attempted to swerve to the side to dodge. The key word being _attempted._ While she managed to get around the arms, the cups had slid to one side of the tray and her body automatically followed as she, again, _attempted_ to balance them.

 _Dang it! Mom was right!_ She gasped as one of her feet flew up behind her and the tray tipped out of her hands. With familiarity, she closed her eyes in preparation of pain - the collision with the ground along with a burn this time, just _awesome_ \- but was surprised when a hand caught her by the arm. She still hit her knees on the ground but at least she hadn't gotten the wind knocked out of her, that was _not_ an experience she wanted to go through again.

"Holy sh- I mean, crap, holy crap. Whew! Almost thought I wouldn't make it in time there. You okay there?"

Isabella opened her eyes and blinked - that was the second time someone had saved her from falling - before looking up to meet bright blue eyes fitted into a very beautiful girl's face. Her eyes widened at seeing yet another of breathtaking beauty - there sure wasn't any mention of so many model-worthy people in Astoria's online brochure, she knew that for a fact - and was surprised to see the expression mirrored.

The two stared at each other for a few moments before Isabella snapped out of it. "I'm okay," she responded to the previous inquiry. "Don't expect the same of the coffee..." She looked at the floor, expecting to see shattered ceramic and cooling black liquid, but was surprised once more when a tray of fully in tact mugs was practically shoved in her face. "How...?"

The girl - woman? She looked like an adult, but that didn't seem quite right - with bright blue eyes shrugged, displacing long, shiny bronze hair from her shoulders. "I caught 'em."

Isabella brows furrowed slightly at the plain response, the girl had caught the tray, stabilized it, while steadying her at the same time? Was that even possible? Well, that was what whappened, so she supposed as improbable as it seemed, it was. "Thank you," she said, smiling gratefully at the girl.

"You're welcome. Let me help you up," the girl said with a grin, holding out a hand.

Isabella hesitated for a moment, glancing at the tray in her other hand before second to trust that she'd be able to hold it. "Thank you," she repeated as she grabbed the extended hand, flinching slightly at the slightly hotter flesh. The girl was almost uncomfortably hot, but she didn't appear sick or feverish at all. Isabella peered at the her curiously as she accepted the tray from her and expeditiously transferred it to the customers who'd ordered.

 _That was the last order._ Sighing in relief, Isabella began to head back to her stool by the front counter, where she noticed the girl who'd helped her waving goodbye to a man with sharp, foreign features before she sat on a stool that happened to be next to hers. The older brunette was staring down curiously at the book she'd chosen when she climbed into her seat, attracting her attention.

Isabella smiled at her politely, not really knowing what to say, and grabbed the book, flipping though the pages to return to the story she was reading.

"So...You work here? But aren't you like, what, eight? Isn't that against the law?" The girl questioned curiously, setting down an elbow on the counter to lean her cheek against the back of one hand in a casually graceful movement.

Isabella's lips twitched downward and her brows furrowed. "I'm nearly ten," she corrected a tad sharply before sighing. "And I'm only helping out." Not a complete lie, considering she was getting paid for assistance, but she'd rather not voice anything possibly incriminating.

A distance away, Mr. Marshall was cleaning a few used mugs and made a humorous expression that said he'd heard her not-quite-a-lie.

She pretended not to notice him.

"Oh." The girl went quiet for a few moments, tapping her fingers on the wooden counter in no particular rhythm. "Are you just visiting Astoria?" She suddenly asked. "For the summer? You don't have anything better to do than work?"

Chocolate brown orbs narrowed as dark brows furrowed further. The girl sounded as if she were implying something with that last question, though she hadn't seemed to do it on purpose. She just seemed oblivious to the interpreted insults in her words. _How tactless..._ Isabella remarked blandly. And persistent. She still asked questions even when the younger girl stared unwaveringly into her chosen book.

After a few minutes passed without an answer, Isabella could actually feel the bright blue eyes staring stubbornly at her. With a sigh and a restrained pout, she turned to the elder brunette. "Yes, I'm visiting for summer break and no, I don't have anything else to do. You?"

A vibrant grin that nearly blinded her curled the girl's lips. "I live here!" She answered promptly. Her brows scrunched up after a moment as she brought up a slender finger to tap her bottom lip. "Well, not for much longer I think, but I've been here for a few years. Have you been to any of the restaurants yet? I recommend _Il Luogo Ideale,_ they have Italian that's _to die for_." She giggled lightly at what appeared to be an inside joke with a mischievous look.

Isabella arched a brow but didn't comment. "I haven't had the chance to check out any restaurants," she said, and likely wouldn't now thanks to the innate clumsiness of her family. "What else is there?"

The older girl perked up. "Well, there's also nice Korean barbeque place called _Jung-Kin's Yaoe-Pati,_ a few authentic Chinese food stands that come out at night, a French pâtisserie with the best crepes in the world, and then there is _Zeke's Fish and Chip Alcove_! It's near the beach and the seafood there is _out of this universe_." A reverent dreamy look glazed over bright blue orbs. "I can't even tell you how earth-shatteringly delicious it is...I haven't been there in a few weeks but I'm totally breaking Nel's credit card next time we go."

Isabella blinked at the enthusiastic endorsement before a short laugh slipped past her lips. The girl looked as if she'd just gotten her one true life's wish granted while singing ineffable praises about _seafood._ It was funnier - and bit less disturbing - than the time when her mother rambled about how a certain brand of chocolate completed the world with an almost pious fervency. Another laugh escaped her as she imagined the girl beside her devoting prayers to fried shrimp and catfish. Would she go so far as to make an alter and burn candles or incense, imploring for another bountiful fish fry? It was a bit disturbing, but at the same time so comical to imagine the beauty beside her worshiping _fried seafood._

"You have a pretty laugh."

The non sequitur startled Isabella from her imagination and she looked at the girl, only to flinch as she found herself under a sharp gaze. The girl's head was tilted to the side and previously wide blue eyes were narrowed in scrutiny and consideration. Isabella felt a tendril of apprehension at the look, so contrary to the blithely said compliment that came before it. It felt uncomfortably like she was being analyzed like some sort of strange animal one inexplicably discovered.

She shifted on her stool with discomfort, looking away from the scrutinizing gaze. "Thank you, your laugh is nice too," she said lightly, trying to return to the light atmosphere before she laughed. _And mom always said laughter was the best way to make friends_ , she scoffed internally. _Couldn't be more wrong._

"You have pretty eyes too." The girl continued as if she hadn't spoke, eyes narrowing further. "I've never seen so many shades of brown in one place."

Isabella's brows knitted down. How was she supposed to respond to this? Tell the older girl to politely stop staring at her because she was making her uncomfortable? Wait for her to snap out of whatever the heck turned their talk into a staring session? Maybe she should just walk away and pretend it never happened? Or just let the girl continue and go back to reading her book as if she didn't even care about being scrutinized? _This_ was why she didn't social with people, she never knew how to react to their mercurial moods.

"Ms. Swan."

Isabella jumped at the sudden call of her name and looked up to see her boss watching her with a frown. She couldn't tell if it was from displeasure at her just sitting and not watching the few customers still present or from worry, as she knew he should have at least heard a bit of what had just been said. Whichever it was, she was grateful for the distraction from the disconcerting girl beside her.

"We got an order for cream cheese bagel and omelette combo, to-go," Mr. Marshall informed her. "The cook's name is Leslie Tarrant and he's pretty sensitive about his name, so call him Tarrant." He paused for a second before adding, "And don't tell him I said that if he ever asks."

Isabella nodded and quickly slid off her stool, heading for the door at the back without a glance over her shoulder. She sighed in relief when the door swung shut behind her and the almost physical weight of the stare vanished. She leaned her back against the wall for a moment to calm her nerves - that stare was extremely disconcerting, almost...frightening - before shaking away her jitteriness. She'd think about the girl after she completed her job.

Stepping away from the wall, she glanced around and noticed the door had opened to a short hall, then further into a room around a corner, presumably a kitchen. There was light smell of seasoning to reassure her assumption, and it only grew stronger as she walked around the corner into a kitchenette. The room wasn't large, having just enough room for only two or three people to occupy at the same time, but it had clean, practical working stations . If Isabella were to ever take a genuine interest in cooking - which at present was a skill born of necessity - she would prefer one like what she was seeing now.

"Is there an order, or are you just going to stand there admiring the view?"

Isabella whipped around in surprise at the voice, which she really shouldn't have since she already knew that there was someone in the room. Grimacing a bit sheepishly, she looked up to see a blond man carrying a bag of flour, the door to a pantry open behind him. "Sorry. There's an order for a cream cheese bagel and omelette combo."

The man, Leslie Tarrant, grunted. "Raymond must be here, on his way to work no doubt. I'll have it for you in five minutes," he said, walking past to set the bag on the island in the center of the room. He got out the necessary ingredients for the order and began to prepare it without offering another word.

Isabella watched the man with interest as he cracked several eggs in two with a professional's ease - to her eyes - for a minute or two before zoning out. What was she going to do after going back out? If the girl hadn't left while she was busy, the last hour of her first working day was going to be much more awkward. She grimaced again. Well, she'd have an interesting story to tell her mother when she went back to the hotel room at least. And more proof for why any attempts at socializing would lead to disaster for her.

"It's ready." Tarrant's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He held a small white box as he arched a brow almost tiredly. "In a to-go box, which you forgot to mention. Fortunately for you, only one person orders this at noon."

Crap, she did forget to mention that, didn't she? "I'm sorry," she said, taking the box with a sheepish smile. "It won't happen again."

The man waved dismissively. "It's fine. You better go before Bryan deducts from your pay for not being punctual."

Isabella stared at the man for a moment, not knowing if he was just kidding since he hadn't cracked a smile and just looked tired as he began to clean the minor mess he'd made. In the end, she just nodded and walked away. Well, that sated whatever curiosity she had over the cook.

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thought with slight apprehension as she pushed the door open. She walked toward the front counter and noticed, with relief, that the girl was no longer on the stool. A glance around the shop informed her that she had departed entirely and that Isabella could safely return to reading when she was done.

At the register, her boss was smiling as he spoke to a man who looked around his age familiarly. "Here's the combo," Isabella said as she got closer, attracting the men's attention.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan," Mr. Marshall said, smiling. "Just give it to Raymond here, he's been ordering the same thing for the past seven years. Makes you wonder if he doesn't know the meaning of the word variety."

The man called Raymond snorted. "You wound me, Marshall, truly. Your words have never hurt me more."

Isabella smiled politely at the man as she handed over his order, nodding when he thanked her, and returned to her seat. She tried focus on the book in her hands, but, once again, could not focus on the words on the page no matter how hard she tried. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was officially another person who could psyche her out just as easily as her mother with little effort.

And she had spoken to the girl for no more than five minutes.

What if she came back?

"Tired?"

Isabella opened her eyes to see Mr. Marshall standing across from her behind the counter, sipping contently on a cup of black coffee. She straightened in her seat, eyeing the coffee considering my, before shrugging. "I'm fine, I just didn't expect work to be so..."

"Difficult?" Her boss offered. "It is your first day, it should get easier. You have most of the skills required down already, now is only a matter of applying the ones you didn't practice much today. Next time, I'm sure you won't even have a close call with dropping the tray."

Her brow twitched. "Oh, you saw that," she murmured, ignoring the blush of embarrassment that unwillingly flooded her cheeks. That "close call" could've led to far more pain than she wanted to experience but was thankfully avoided by the girl. After a minute, her blush cooled a bit and she cleared her throat. "It's just about one, isn't it?"

The shop owner glanced at his watch. "Yes, it is. And seeing as business is slowing, you can call it day. Good work today," he praised, setting his cup down to smile. "You did better than my part-time workers."

And the blush returned. "Thank you. I enjoyed working." She dropped herself from the stool. "Oh, and what about the reimbursement?"

"Hm, do you know how to write a check?"

Chocolate brown orbs stared up at the man with no amusement. There were many things her mother allowed concerning in relation to her savings, but there was no chance of her leaving her checkbook with her nine year old daughter.

Mr. Marshall laughed at her expression. "Okay, I get it. Just tell your mother to write one and bring it tomorrow."

Isabella nodded. "She might bring it herself," she muttered and went to return the book to the bookshelf. "Is everyday like what happened earlier?" She asked as she paused in front of the counter.

Her boss crooked a brow at her inquisitively. "Are you referring to the sudden influx of customers at eleven or the odd customer you spoke to?"

She wrinkled her nose a bit and frowned. "Both...?"

"The summer always brings in the crowds, but only after early morning. The weekends tend to be even later, but you probably won't be here for that." He answered, and paused to consider the second part. "We do occasionally get the odd person who doesn't just come for a cup of coffee or a quiet place to relax. Most are usually tourists with a few eccentricities who demand drinks from other countries and continents that we don't offer."

"That girl said she lived here." Isabella remarked, raising her brows. "Does she come around here often?" The ' _Will I have to speak to her again_?' sentiment went unsaid but heard.

"I'd never actually seen the girl before today," Mr. Marshall admitted, leaning against the counter. "She's lived in the city with her family for years now, but she doesn't go out much, not to places like this anyway."

 _She's probably been to every restaurant though,_ Isabella thought, slightly amused. "So she probably won't come back," she prompted, for clarification.

The shop owner hummed, brows jumping. "Well, I wouldn't say that with no doubt at all."

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him, forgetting for a moment that the gesture was impolite. "There's a chance she'll come back?" She questioned.

Another hum. "There's a chance for everything." The man replied ambiguously. "Especially when one says ' _I have to convince her to be my friend_ '."

Isabella's jaw dropped a little in shock as she stared at her boss. "She said that?" She asked faintly. The girl actually wanted to be friends? Then why did she leave before she returned? "And you're only telling me this _now?"_

Mr. Marshall sent her a smile, the same one that he gave her when he 'remembered' the usual method for taking orders. "I wanted it to be a surprise. Your mother said she wanted you to have more friends, even if they are a bit older. The best friends are always persistent."

 _Oh, it was a surprise alright_. Isabella's eye twitched a little. _And she is definitely persistent_. A dull throb began in her temple. "Thank you for telling me." She said, smiling thinly. "I will see you in the morning."

"Six-thirty sharp." He reminded her kindly. "Have a nice afternoon, Ms. Swan."

She nodded and left out of the shop, striding in the direction of the elevator. Once inside and hitting the button for the third floor, she leaned against one wall heavily. The girl was definitely coming back. What was she supposed to do now? She wasn't exactly against being her friend, but she didn't want to be under that stare again. A tendril of unease twisted through her as she recalled the look. Bright eyes the color of the sky looking intently at her as if she were a source of curiosity and interest.

It wasn't exactly what you'd call a friendly glance.

The elevator dinged as she reached her floor and she walked out swiftly, suddenly feeling impatient to return to the room. Maybe her mom would know what to do. She always came up with some random wisdom when the situation required it.

She knocked on the door when she reached it, chiding herself mentally for forgetting the extra key she was given. When the door opened , she spoke before her mother could even ask how her day went.

"Mom, what do I do when someone calls me pretty and wants to be my friend?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for reading. Sorry for the delay, it has been a while since I focused on this. It took longer than I care to admit to actually come up with this chapter, but it's here. I'm not sure how well it turned out since I completely changed the conflict I'd been hedging on (you probably won't be able to tell though). It's actually pretty elaborate now, if I can do it justice. Might take a minute to think of ideas with school starting for me these past weeks, so ditto on the sporadic updates label.**

 **By the way, I created an OC who appears at the end of this chapter. He's...odd. I created an amsuing (to me), but kinda twisted backstory for him. Probably won't elaborate on it much though; he's not too important.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **{EoC}**

The morning after the arrival of the Whitlock couple, Nahuel could be found behind a desk, monotonously sorting through medical files, one of the more riveting responsibilities his father 'entrusted' to him. Being his father's assistant was an unfortunate position he chose to occupy several decades before to prevent his father from taking excessive advantage of the resources he had as a doctor. There wasn't much he could do other than observe - the very thought he could ever have the slightest input or control over any aspect of his father was laughable. With observation, he would at least be able to determine when his father had gone too far and if he had to either mitigate the results or erase all record of his family's presence from the city. It had happened before, several times in fact, back when his father had first begun to take advantage of human medical centers.

Those were very unpleasant times.

In their three years in Astoria, he hadn't noticed anything overly alarming happen - excluding his the usual vile experiments. There were no abnormal or unnatural deaths, none that denoted to his father's involvement anyway, or any significant change in demographic, so the chances of Joham planning something for the city weren't too high. The telltale signs of his involvement were unmissable after seeing them so often, so he had been confident he would know when his father started to act again.

He had been wrong. He had been wrong for a very long time.

"...Nothing has come up positive. You are officially free of any infections or diseases, Ms. Wilhelm." Honeyed teak orbs slid from the blood and urine test results on his desk to the young woman seated across from him. "You are lucky, I advise next time you visit another country, you acquire all the vaccinations necessary beforehand."

The brunette with matching brown eyes smiled, blushing in a mixture of embarrassment and elation to be speaking to _the_ Nathaniel Desmond. The mysterious and stoic son of the miracle surgeon who'd settled down in her once bland hometown . "I'll take that to heart, my brother has already shouted about it to me when I came home unable to stomach anything," she admitted, giggling as she brushed a strand of hair behind one ear. "Thank you for helping, Dr. Desmond's prescription was absolutely amazing! It worked within a week when everything else only made me more ill."

Nahuel glanced at the woman sharply. A week? There was no such cure to the almost intensive compromising of the woman's digestive system. At least, none that he was aware of, as peripherally involved with the medical world as he was. And nor had there been a medicine he didn't recognize listed on her medical records. "Oh? That does sound amazing. I shall inform my father of your kind words. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear feedback from his important...patients."

Wilhelm smiled even wider, oblivious to the pause between his words. "Is that all, Mr. Desmond? My brother wants me to tell him the results immediately," she said, rolling her eyes. "He worries too much."

"All brothers worry for their sisters," Nahuel said, making an effort to converse though he normally wouldn't with a random human he was assisting in his father's stead, but he needed her slightly more open for his next question. "Were it my sister here today, I wouldn't have let her come alone, even if she is an adult."

The woman seemed to melt at his words. "Your sister's lucky then, having such a kind older brother to look after her." Her voice became slightly flirtatious as her lips curled into something less than professional. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear again, a move, no doubt, meant to draw attention to her exposed tan neck.

Nahuel ignored the attempt easily. Continuing conversations always seemed to lead some women to believing they had a chance. Joham was to blame for this, as always, since he 'let it slip' that he was without permanent company. Little did the women who'd fallen for his words know, they were only pawns in his game to force Nahuel to drink human blood - a pastime his father developed after he rebelled against eating anything other than human food several decades ago. The game - punishment, honestly - was fun enough his father ignored, if he ever cared in the first place, that they'd have to leave the area if such a thing happened too often. The man simply enjoyed testing his control, having seen what laid beneath his tempered exterior when it snapped before.

 _Troublesome man, foolish humans._

"I have one request before you go," he began, meeting the eyes of the woman. She perked up hopefully and he had to restrain his urge to grimace. He would sooner rip her throat out with his teeh than begin the you of relationship she wanted; it would only be merciful in the end. "You are completely healthy, so you no longer need the prescription Dr. Desmond gave you. It is in short supply, so I'm afraid I must ask for it back."

Despite his attempt to ease his way into the question, the woman's flirtatious smile vanished and she stiffened. "Is...is that really necessary? I was only given five, so there's barely any left now. Surely you don't need leftovers from someone who was sick. They could be contaminated!" She reasoned, hands tightening their hold on her purse.

Nahuel tilted his head minutely. _Addiction?_ Highly likely considering how potent the drug had to be to 'cure' her. His thoughts automatically linked to the cargo of his visiting friends. Was this drug related to the narcotics and toxins his father demanded? But that would mean he had other suppliers that went unnoticed by him needed to create it. More the reason to collect it then; this would be the first solid indication of what his sire was up to recently after ten years of relative peace.

He got up slowly from his desk and circled around to kneel in front of her. "Ms. Wilhelm," he said gently - as gentle as it could sound while practically flat in tone - and touched her hand lightly. Her heartbeat quickened even faster than it had when he'd asked for the prescription. He could smell her begin to perspire but managed to ignore the scent mingling unpleasantly with strong perfume. "I realize my father's medicine has helped you greatly, saved your life even, but you can't grow dependent on it."

The woman looked conflicted, face twisting between almost irrational reluctance to give the medicine and the desire for more of his touch. "B...but I _need_ it," she breathed out in a rush. "It feels so good after I take it - the pain in my stomach faded away, my old sports' injuries stop aching, and I can think so clearly!"

A creeping suspicion began to make itself known in his head. "That's wonderful, what else have you experienced?" He asked coaxingly, just barely suppressing the urge to just interrogate the woman. _Have patience._

She took shuddering breaths, which did nothing to slow her heartbeat, and her hands clenched tighter. "I feel as healthy as I was in college, no, even healthier than that. You know how teenagers sat they feel as if they can do anything," she asked rhetorically. He nodded anyway. "I feel like _that_ when I take it. The effects more than make up for the fever I get for a day after. My mind is so clear, my body so strong, and everything is just so much _brighter._ You can't take that from me."

 _Father, don't tell me you've done the impossible again_. "What do you feel like when the effects where off?" He questioned, ignoring the decisive statement.

An uncomfortable look drifted onto her face. "I get a fever and really cold for a few hours, and in my heart a little, but every medicine has its side-effects," she argued.

Nahuel didn't respond immediately, taken aback by the implications.

...And he'd thought any human his father experimented on was unwilling.

Morbid humor aside, what his father sounded like he was doing wasn't even within the realms of what he'd been guessing. He entertained the thought his father was creating the newest strain to wipe out anyone he wanted, vampire or human, but it sounded like he was creating some miracle elixir that temporarily gave humans vampiric attributes without turning them into a vampire.

In Peter's words: _What the actual hell?_

What could he want with humans possessing vampiric abilities? Knowing his father, his goal could simply be to make humans more fun to prey on - by making them more capable of evading them, providing a much more thrilling chase, and give them the delusional hope that they could ever escape - or as inexplicable and convoluted as creating an army of 'superior' human beings to spark a revolution for a new world. Neither were impossible, unfortunately, considering his father's unique brand of _fun._

Nahuel could only hope he was jumping to conclusions, but he wasn't one to delude himself.

"Ms. Wilhelm," he began, but paused when his phone vibrated. He frowned as he deliberated whether he should look at it. Glancing at the time, mostly for show, he shifted his weight onto his feet, causing the woman to tense. "Your appointment ended five minutes ago. I apologize for allowing it to run over," he said apologetically, rising to extend a hand to her. "I'm also sorry for any unnecessary stress I've caused, your health is our main priority and such strong pills can endanger your life if taken improperly."

Wilhelm relaxed as he helped her up and began to guide her to the door, one hand pressed gently to her lower back. She blushed as she adjusted her bag on her arm. "It's okay, you're just doing your job. I'll make sure to be careful with with them. I'll only use them if I get seriously ill again!" She promised, gazing up at him eagerly and completely oblivious to the brief moment his hand left her back.

Nahuel nodded at her words. "I trust you. Make sure you eat more as well, your weight is a bit low," he advised. He wasn't just saying it to distract her; she was nearly skin and bones underneath her clothes. It wasn't strange since she couldn't eat for over two weeks, but he didn't believe her condition had been severe enough for such damage. "Please contact us if you have any questions. Have a nice day."

He closed the door behind her and allowed the pleasant expression to slide into his usual aloofness. He waited for the sound of her clicking heels to fade before carefully observing three bluish-purple tablets still in plastic. It looked like a pack of normal pills, but he already knew they were far from that. Human manufactured drugs could never be so near to scentless, not with their current technology and skill.

The woman would come back when she noticed they weren't in her purse. She had already shown enough signs cueing addiction. He cursed his father; she would be troublesome to deal with if the drug were truly as potent as he thought.

He twisted the packet in his fingers as he pulled out his cellphone - a 'must have' Jennifer demanded for the whole family a few years before. There was a text from Peter. He didn't bother wasting time wondering how Peter even got his number and opened the message.

 _Duck 'n cover, barista-man, a brandy-lover has just come in swingin'. I repeat, hide your precious and MAKE LIKE THE DEVIL IS ON YOUR REAR_ \- Your Bestie Pete

The urge to roll his eyes had never been so compelling. Peter was so dramatic sometimes; it was hard to interpret whether he was being serious or not. Apparently, someone who wanted his alcohol collection was in town and he should run away. To take his warning serious or to presume it to be typical Peter nonsense, that was the question. After a moment, he decided to just call the man for clarification before he packed his, and his sisters', belongings and fled to Canada. Jennifer would love to see the Aurora Borealis, he was certain.

 _He's taking advantage of my trust._ He thought dully, listening to the phone ring. It had only rung for barely more than two seconds when it was answered. "Peter, I hope you have a good reason for suggesti-" He was cut short by a curt voice.

" _Papa Scientist just got back. He's not alone._ "

Nahuel didn't respond immediately. He could count on two hands the number of times Peter had spoken with such brevity, and every instance concluded with someone's blood being shed. He sighed. When was there ever not blooshed? At least he was getting a warning this time. He certainly would have appreciated one before the many times Serena sprang a competition - of wits, of hunting skill, of speed, etcetera - on him. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Who are they?" He questioned, smoothly putting away the paperwork he'd completed.

" _Don't recognize 'im_ ," Peter murmured, clicking his tongue, clearly disgruntled by that fact. " _I didn't get much of a look at 'im, but he ain't from around here."_

Nahuel hummed in acknowledgement as he picked up his jacket and placed it over an arm. That wasn't surprising, considering the Whitlocks weren't around enough to meet every one of his father's associates. He locked the door as he left the office and strode through the halls swiftly, nodding to the receptionist at the front after he signed out. "Did you get a name?" He asked once he was outside. He headed for thick treeline that gave way to the forest around the mansion.

" _Eh, Shawn? Something with sh- at the beginning. Sounded middle eastern, maybe Asian_."

There were no males that came to mind that fit that description. He was another of his father's hidden, or at least less frequently met, acquaintances then. Perhaps the man was on a 'supply run' like Peter and Char. "I don't know who he is either. I'm guessing they're talking now in private? What are you and Charlotte doing now?" Not trying to eavesdrop, he hoped, and making a mess of the already uncertain situation. He believed Charlotte would stop her mate from doing something so reckless and frankly stupid.

" _Yeah, and whaddaya think? That we're twiddlin' our thumbs and scarfin' down your cider-whiskey? As if,_ " Peter scoffed. " _We're looking up the plants and crap we got in the library - why the hell do y'all have this here? You're just gonna leave anyway - waitin' for you to get back. Ain't nothin' else to do here."_

"You can wait in my office," he offered, tilting his head as he checked his surroundings. "I'll be there in a moment." He hung up and put the phone away, instantaneously moving into a sprint towards the mansion. He slowed once he was through the trees and breathed in. It took a moment but he caught the faint scent of smoky herbs and spices. Incense? With a tinge of jasmine to compliment. His brows furrowed. He didn't recognize the scent at all. Who had his father invited to Astoria?

He wisely decided it was best not to confront them without any idea and headed to his chambers.

Nahuel arrived at his office to find the Whitlocks flitting through books at vampiric speed, a large stack on the table between them. Or at least at first sight both were. Charlotte was diligently making her way through a botanical book with a peculiar flower on the front. Her husband on the other hand, had a wine glass half full of amber liquid and was meticulously pouring in crimson blood in loops, forming a spiralling design that floated among the bubbles. The man was doing exactly what he claimed not to be doing and probably attempting to see if the alcohol was digestible mixed with blood.

"Don't spit that out on my floor," Nahuel said, narrowing his eyes at the man. Nahuel himself wasn't a huge fan of that particular drinks flavor, so a full vampire was sure to be repulsed to the point their nonexistent gag reflex activated. He wasn't going have his venom eating away at his floor and have to fix it himself. If he did, he'd force the entire bottle of the vile liquid down the southerner's throat.

Peter shot him a grin. "I won't, don't get your panties in a bunch. I never spit it out," he leered, arching a brow. He snorted at Nahuel's unimpressed stare. "Your pretty sister with the red hair, Maysun was it, said mixin' blood made things more tasty. I'm trustin' her on this."

"Enjoy yourself then," Nahuel murmured, deciding that pointing out the error in that choice wasn't worth the effort. He tossed his jacket over the back of his chair and sat across from the productive half of the couple. "Anything new?" He asked, mindful of Peter raising his glass up to the light with an expression of keen intrigue.

Charlotte didn't pause in her reading as she tapped on a book in a smaller stack on the coffee table. "Nothin' that shouts importance. Most of what we brought are used in psychedelics and poisons and antidotes. Nothin' new or screamin' a reason for the Scientist's interest." She shut the book in her hands as she reached its last page, lips pressed into a line. "He ain't fool enough to leave his research in view."

Nahuel flipped through the pages of one, cocking his head in interest at the seemingly hand drawn renderings of bulbous flowers. The book was old, from the eighteenth century likely from the print, and useless. "Even if he were to leave his research material in plain view, I doubt we'd be able to follow his thought process anyway," he said blandly. "He's insane."

Charlotte snorted at his bluntness. "Yeah, but I still don't like feelin' this useless." She changed her focus from the books to him. "So what did you find today? Peter said you found a 'burnin' blue gem', or somethin'," she quoted, rolling her eyes.

"Did he?" He muttered drolly, and reached into his pocket to pull out the packet of tablets. Two pairs of crimson fastened on them as he placed them on the table. "This is medicine a patient of my father's received after her digestive tract was heavily infected by bacteria. It's not truly important, but to put it shortly, she could not eat and was gradually dying of malnutrition. When she received these," he tapped the indigo tablets, "after only taking two, she saw a complete recovery."

"The Scientist created these?" Charlotte asked rhetorically, reaching forward to pick it up but Peter snatched it up first. She glowered at him in exasperation. "Sounds strong. What about them is _burnin'?"_

Peter held up the packet and squinted at it in intense perusal. "Yeah, what's so special about this? Looks like a regular old laxative to me."

"Apparently, they alleviated the patients old injuries along with her illness, made her mind become clearer, and made her feel 'invincible'," he relayed, watching their expressions carefully. "She also developed a fever afterward, a high one I'd say, judging by her reluctance to admit it, before feeling cold for some time after."

"Lots of medicine are like that nowadays, Nel," Peter drawled, lazily flicking the pack up in the air with his thumb and catching it. "You're bein' paranoid. I wouldn't put it past your papa to create somethin' so powerful that works. He's a genius who doesn't fear experimenting, after all."

Nahuel scowled slightly, brows drawing down in irritation. "I know that. But you know as well as I that he wouldn't create a simple cure to help humans. He's no altruistic doctor who only wants to help them." A blond man he'd only observed from afar flashed through his mind. His father would have sneered at being compared to him. "He does nothing without benefitting himself in some way."

The Whitlocks looked at each other, communicating something he couldn't read. Charlotte met his gaze again. "Got any theories?" She prompted. "You think this is related to whatever he's been doing with all those plants?"

"Maybe. He's also been...harvesting lately," he said thoughtfully, aware of the disgust that twisted their faces. They'd had to collect more than just blood in their years servicing Joham, so they knew without being specified what his father was doing in his latest gathering of ingredients. "I don't know how this all ties in, or if any of this related in the slightest."

"Hmm," Peter hummed, drawing it out long enough that Char threatened to remove the muscles required for the action. "So we have no clue what the Scientist's up to, just like thirty minutes ago." He stared at the packet blankly, fiddling with it's foldable segments. "Then why don't we just test it out? If it's made by papa Demi, maybe it'll affect us too."

Nahuel and Charlotte shared a look of disbelief. "He wasn't this stupid before our trip to Japan, I swear," Char grimaced. "He knows better than to stick somethin' that's been who-knows-where with who-knows-what in it in his mouth."

"Are you certain of that?" Nahuel asked dryly.

"Well...He's always had a bit of a fixation with putting things in his mouth, but he knows better."

"Hey, I'm right here," Peter protested, whined honestly. "And what's the problem? My venom will disintegrate anything other than fire and unless the Scientist has found a way to solidify flames in pills, it ain't gonna happen!" He carefully broke one tablet from the plastic and tossed it into his mouth, then in the same instance downed the glass of blood and whiskey in a single gulp. "Agh, nasty! Why didn't it taste any better? Your sister's a real joker, ain't she, Nel?"

"How do you feel?" Nahuel inquired, wrinkling his nose at the scent of whiskey, blood, and Peter's venom. It wasn't a pleasant combination.

"Like I ate one of Char's attempts at cookin' meatloaf," the male gagged, earning a hard punch on the shoulder from his mate. "What! That crap was nasty and you know it! Even the dogs wouldn't take it, let alone the homeless! They weren't _that_ desperate."

Nahuel wasn't even going to ask about that story. "So you don't feel any changes? No burning?" If his guess was correct, then Peter should have been in agony already. The 'miracle pills' weren't made of ordinary ingredients. From its effects that sounded so similar to what he'd heard from people who'd been changed, he could only conclude that his father had somehow been able to capsulate venom into a pallet. And since venom of another vampire was one of the few things that could kill vampire cells, Peter should've been writhing in pain as soon as the tablet began to touch his own venom. But would it, since it had to also have been erased from the woman's blood as she hadn't changed?

"Nope! I feel right as rain," Peter answered blithely, standing to put his hand on his hips grandly. His bright smile twitched down a decibel a moment later. "Though I do feel a bit of a weight in my belly. Which is weird, 'cause it should all be 'digested' by now."

Charlotte's expression was split between concern and irritation. "Dumbass. Only you would swallow something without a thought," she grunted, pressing her fingers over eyes. "Was your intuition tellin' you it was alright? 'Cause I don't believe you'd just trust somethin' the Scientist made."

Peter's smile froze and Charlotte shot him a sharp look. "Well," he laughed, gaze darting to Nahuel - who was ignoring the exchange to think - in a subtle plea. "I haven't felt that I _shouldn't_ take the thing, so I figured maybe nothin' would happen-"

"Peter! That ain't how it works! That ain't how it _ever_ worked."

"Char, sugar, I'm sure it'll be fine-"

An odd sound that resembled acid melting through rock muted him. A peculiar expression of discomfort flickered across his face and he pressed a hand to his abdomen. Then he went stone still.

"Peter?"

He didn't respond as he doubled over, teeth clenched so tightly the grinding was audible. His fingers dug into his stomach, nearly piercing into his skin as his eyes widened in bewilderment. "It..it _burns,"_ he hissed, and comprehension flashed in his eyes. He turned to the others and snapped, "Hit me."

Char's hand flew up before he had even finished and Peter stumbled to the side as she slapped him.

A pained grimace twisted his face as he looked at her incredulously. "I meant in the stomach!" He hissed again.

"I know." She deadpanned, smirking viciously before doing as requested and sinking her fist in his gut.

Nahuel huffed in a mixture of amusement and irritation as Peter doubled over once more, this time to hack up a puddle of venomous bile. The man could've left his room before coughing up the pill. Speaking of the pill, from Peter's reaction, his theory seemed correct. But if it was, why did it take so long - over a minute - for Peter to feel it. Was the venom diluted? Was that even possible?

"What the hell?" Charlotte took a step back from where her mate had been leaning over, pulling him with her.

Nahuel glanced at her unsettled expression, then at Peter's disgusted awe. He followed their gazes with faint apprehension and stilled as he saw Peter's venom searing into the floor. There were vague impressions in the tile around the small puddle - a sign that it had already begun to shrink, but that wasn't supposed to happen. The impressions should have been deeper before the venom stopped - venom didn't have as much as an effect on inorganic substances as organic, but there was an effect - and the venom wasn't supposed to _shrink_ at all. Venom only seized to corrode when it was burned or washed away.

Yet Peter's venom was clearly dissolving, essentially evaporating right before their eyes, until there wasn't a drop of red left.

They were all silent as they realized what it meant.

Joham had discovered, no, _deveopled_ a way to destroy venom with an alternate method to fire. He had developed another way to kill _vampires_ from the inside out.

When had his father created this? And for what purpose?

" _Ingenious_."

"Can't expect less of the Scientist," Peter drawled begrudgingly, voice slightly rough. "If he can stop it's corrosive properties, 'course he could find away to destroy it."

Nahuel blinked, not realizing he'd said the word aloud until Peter sent him a look of understanding. "Are you okay?" He inquired, brows furrowed in concern. The man's hand had moved from his stomach to his collarbone and his eyes were quickly darkening to deep burgundy bordering on black. "All of the tablet is out of your system?"

Peter laughed and grinned at him. "Are you worried, Nel?" He put his hands in his pockets and relaxed, erasing all signs of discomfort. "No need, this body can take far more of a punch - _no,_ Char, that was not an invitation!" He leaned away from his mate as he clicked his tongue. "Just abusive. Anyway, Nel, I'm gonna be fine. I just need to get some blood in me and any damage will be gone."

Nahuel frowned but nodded. "If you're sure." He looked at floor and grimaced. Peter was shrugging off his insides being dissolved as if it were nothing. Then again, maybe the pain wasn't so intolerable since he had more history than was healthy of limbs being removed and foreign venom in his veins. "I take it you want fresh," he said, and received a 'No, I wanted years old, left out to dry - what do you think?' which he ignored. "You'll have to stay out of Astoria."

Charlotte kicked Peter in the hollow of his knee to prevent him from responding with another smart comment. "We know, we'll cross the border too, so there won't be any trouble for you and your sisters," she told him, smiling warmly. "And I'll make sure this idiot wasn't lying about the damage."

"Thank you, Char," Nahuel murmured gratefully, a faint smile curling his lips. It faded away as he turned and picked up the remaining two tablets. "What do you think I should do with these?" He was no scientist or chemist despite his years with his father. For a variety of reasons, he would never be able to dabble in the subject like his father or Maysun, who favored their father with her honest interest in science. He wasn't going to go to his sister though and drag her into his possibly fruitless pursuit of their father's next plan.

"Keep 'em with you," Peter asserted, staring at him intently. His words weren't a suggestion. "They ain't a huge problem to people without venom, keep them on you."

Honeyed teak narrowed at him inquisitively. "Why?"

Peter cocked his head a fraction and seemed to think his words over for once. "Like I said, they ain't gonna be a problem. Just keep 'em with you and you'll know why eventually."

"And you just know this, of course." Nahuel sighed resignedly and put the packet in his pocket. The situation was getting more an more twisted with even more questions than there were in the beginning. "Be careful, if my father's invited one person to town, there could be more."

"We will, and same to you." Charlotte sent him one more smile before grabbing Peter's hand and pulling him through to the door. "Come on, Peter, we don't know if the damage is still growin', do we?"

Her mate gave a put upon sigh of long suffering before switching to a crooked grin of excitement and hunger. "Yeah, yeah, let's find an arsonist this time! That's gonna be interestin', especially catchin' them in the act."

Char scoffed. "About as interestin' as catchin' a thief in the middle of robbin' a house _\- it ain't_ , Peter."

The couple continued discussing their next meals as they left his office and Nahuel turned away to look at the floor. A small section of his floor was ruined. It wouldn't take much to fix it, but he would have to ask Serena where the tiles came from since she chose the sombre black design. He would definitely be forcing a bottle of alcohol, the most vile tasting even to him, down Peter's throat once he was healed.

He was interrupted from his browsing - and his thoughts revolving around the drug that could kill him and other vampires, and what in the world his father could, _would_ do with it - by soft footsteps outside his door. _Jennifer,_ he recognized and went to it, opening the door just as she poised a hand to knock. "Yes, Jennifer?"

She pouted up at him, brows furrowed adorably. "How do you always do that? I made sure my steps were silent this time and you still noticed me. How?" She demanded, throwing her hands up.

Nahuel restrained a smile. She had been around humans for too long if she thought what she'd just done was silent. "You'll figure it out when you're older," he told her flatly, fully aware she despised the words. Her sharp blue glare answered him again and he decided to stop distracting her, as amusing as it was. "Did you come here for a reason? Or just to test your puerile stealth abilities?"

She was not amused but brushed aside the jab. "Father called. He said he wants us to meet a friend who's staying in town for a few days," she apprised, lips twisted with dismay. "He interrupted my pasta buffet."

He would've been amused by her enduring obsession with food hadn't their father been mentioned. "Serena and Maysun are there too?" He asked, pushing past her out the door to catch their scent.

"Yeah, he called Serena back from her trip to Hawaii. She was _pissed."_ She shuddered as if traumatized by the wrath of their eldest sister. "And Maysun just returned from a meal in Moscow. How come they get to go so far and I have to make due here," she grumbled, crossing her arms and pouting even more.

Nahuel knew she was well aware why - she was barely eight-years-old, technically, despite her mental development being leagues ahead of that - but patted her back consolingly anyway. "You'll have plenty of decades to do so later. Come, we shouldn't keep father and his guest waiting," he sighed, pushing her to walk with him. "Do you know who it is?"

She sent him another glare before turning, a small smile curling her lips. "Nope, not a clue. Today was the first day I've ever seen him." Her expression went partially blank as she lead them around a corner into a hall that went to one of their sitting rooms. "He was...strange."

"How so?"

She pursed her lips and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You'll see," she murmured, shifting her gaze away almost uneasily.

Nahuel frowned at her. Was she hiding something? "Jennifer-"

"Oh, look, we're here!" She announced, strangely moving closer to his side rather than away. "We're the last." She hesitated for a split second before adopting a bright smile and opening the door. "I brought Nahuel, father! Now are you gonna tell us the special occasion?"

Nahuel's nose was assaulted by the strong scent of incense and jasmine he'd encountered before and searched for the source. His gaze wandered over his sister's first, observing how they were sitting on one of the couches somewhat comfortably, though he could discern very slight signs suggesting otherwise, before halting on his father, who wore his typical faint smile of amusement and mockery, and was reclining regally in a high-backed arm chair. Unlike his daughters, he displayed no signs of discomfort and appeared completely at ease in his territory.

"Thank you, Jennifer, and I'll be getting to that in a moment." Joham spoke indulgingly, as he tended to do with his youngest. His deep crimson eyes moved to meet his and narrowed slightly. "Glad you could make it, Nahuel," his father said in lieu of a welcome. "You weren't too overwhelmed by paperwork today, I hope? I'm afraid I've never enjoyed the task myself even after all these years."

"There was no trouble at all, father," he responded smoothly, free of anything that could hint to what he'd learned minutes ago. "Bothersome as it is, it was better than sitting at home watching Jennifer gorge herself with no restraint."

His sister turned to stare at him in horror at his words - they weren't a secret but that didn't mean she liked it being said aloud. Before she could vocalize her outrage, their father and his guest began to laugh. Nahuel took this as a good reason to look away from his father and focused his gaze on the other man.

As expected of a vampire, he was beautiful and perfect in every way visually. He had light caramel skin a shade paler than his sister's, burgundy red eyes, and long, artfully combed back black hair. He was comfortably seated on a couch meant for three adjacent to his father and across from his sisters, one leg crossed over the other and arms thrown over the back. His posture suggested he was used to taking up plenty of space with no complaint and likely didn't know what it meant to not get what he wanted, judging from the luxurious fabric of his clothing and the smug curl of his lips once he stopped laughing.

Those burgundy red eyes fastened on his little sister as she pouted, a faint blush of pink spread across her cheeks as she sulked. Nahuel didn't miss the way they darkened a gradient or how his smile grew minutely. "Another beautiful daughter, I see, Joham," the man purred, combing his eyes down her surreptitiously. "My children truly can't compare." And then his gaze lazily slid to Nahuel. "Not a single one."

Burgundy darkened even further and Nahuel felt himself bristle, instincts recognizing the look even though he couldn't pin an exact word to it - admiring, lustful, covetous? He almost hissed but bit back the reaction as he pushed Jennifer to where Serena and Maysun sat. He stood behind them and looked to their father, keeping sight of the man whose very presence felt alarming.

His father's expression hadn't changed, but Nahuel knew he'd also noticed his guest's gaze. What he thought of it, Nahuel couldn't guess. "Children, allow me to introduce to you an old friend of mine," Joham stated, drawling slightly with his unidentifiable but lilting accent. "This is Shaurya, he's a collector of rare and ancient artifacts and relics. Shaurya, my children; Serena, Maysun, Nahuel, and Jennifer. He will be staying in town to find a one of a kind ceremonial blade rumored to be near the region. I hope you all get along during the duration of his stay."

There was something dangerous in his words, a warning perhaps or maybe a threat, but his guest, Shaurya only smiled wider, gaze sliding across the four hybrids with barely concealed intent. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we get to know each other well," he said pleasantly.

Nahuel nodded silently, his sisters giving their own words of agreement, even as he began to feel apprehension seep into his mind. He had no intention to do any such thing, not when even his instincts were opposed to him, and certainly not when he looked at his sisters with something so close to desire.

He'd kill him before he ever touched them.

But was that even possible? He wasn't certain, by any means.

Who had his father just allowed into Astoria?


End file.
